Golden Snowflakes
by Soulreciever
Summary: After the Quest Frodo recieves a letter from Bilbo that may just change his fate for the better. Slash
1. Of letters and holidays

Golden snowflakes.

Chapter one: Of letters and holidays.

T: Hello people. Yep I'm back again with another LOTR fan fiction. This one's a little special though because the concept entirely mine, there are no what if questions and it has (hopefully) more than two chapters. Right to the disclaimer shall we? None of the characters or places mentioned here in are mine, trust me you'd know if I owned Sam…You'd know! Spoilers for ROTK and so therefore logically the other books also, book cannon which means that those of you who have seen the movie and not read the books may get a little confused. Of slash leanings though I haven't decided yet if it will go any further than it has at the moment…I'll see. Onwards. 

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Bilbo Baggins was perplexed, he had faced down dragons, tossed away a Ring of power and horror of horrors, seen Lobelia Sackville Baggins naked and yet all of this was nothing compared to the agonising horror he was experiencing in attempting to write a letter to his Nephew. 

Throwing his quill to one side he stared hard at the ink stained sheet before him. Everything had begun so easily, with a brisk edge of thanks for the letter Frodo had written him, but it was what came after that was causing Bilbo such strife. It was not that he did not wish to write back to Frodo, but that he no longer knew quite how to treat his dear Nephew any longer. For Frodo's continued contact with the Ring had changed him in a way that none could understand. Of course it had been widely agreed that if any person were to relate to Frodo it would be Bilbo, the older hobbit having carried the Ring for as long as he had. However, Bilbo had almost completely forgotten his time with the Ring in the peace of Rivendale and was now no more help to Frodo than an ordinary hobbit.

Somehow though, Frodo seemed to have made his own recovery for there was an edge of his old frolicsome nature contained within the letter, mixed though it was with the ordinary self-doubting, self-hating tone that was Frodo's norm of late. Stranger still was the finely crafted broach that Frodo had sent with the letter, for in its simple representation of the great tower of Gondor, wrought in iron and jade, there was an edge of almost elfin beauty. It was very surprising, therefore, to learn that his Nephew had created the broach earlier in the season supposedly to `keep his mind from things`. 

Taking his quill into his hand again he pulled across a fresh sheet of paper and began to write again,

`Frodo,

          I must first thank you greatly for the broach; it was a wonderful gift, my lad, one I shall treasure for many years to come.`

Yes that seemed the best way to begin the thing, but still he could not think of how to continue, `weather remains fine` would be a suitable next sentence, but so very impersonal that Bilbo could not bring himself to write it. What he needed was a safe topic; one that did not agitate Frodo's unstable sense of mind and yet was personal enough to show Frodo that Bilbo cared.

The shifting of the breeze brought the scent of freshly budding spring flowers into Bilbo's nose and a sudden inspiration struck the hobbit and he began to write again lest it was lost.

`I hope that the flowers about Bag End are growing again, sweeter and stronger than ever before under Sam's watchful gaze.  You must tell him that I hope he did not neglect the Forget me nots that grew under my bedroom window, for they were my favourites and it would sadden me to think that he may have replaced them with something of greater beauty.  You must recall to him also that summer is the best season for marriage and that when he gets to using that gold of his he must buy a Smaile close to Bag End so that you can visit each other often.

 `How are Meriadoc and Peregrine? Still causing you trouble I've no doubt. Please recall to Pippin that I have not forgotten what he told me and that I may yet carry out my threat if it seems to me that he is idling deliberately.`

He paused again; his brow creasing thought for a moment before his eyes caught on the other letter he had received that day.

`Aragorn asked that I might visit him in Gondor for the summer, by my heath being what it is I fear that I must refuse him. I wonder if you would like to go in my stead, a few days from the Shire might do you a little good.

`I am worried about you, about how you must feel trapped in the Shire when you have seen the world beyond. I do not want you to regret the choices you made Frodo and I certainly do not wish you to throw away your life, you are young yet after all.  Instead I ask you to recall that all wounds can be healed, if given time and the right medicine. 

Bilbo.`

*

Frodo sighed under his breath and tucked the letter back into its envelope, his mind wondering over its contents. The soft footfalls of hobbit feet upon the floorboards drew him out of his revere and up into the deep green of Pippin's eyes. 

"Bad news?" The Took enquired as he sat himself onto the chair across from his Cousin. 

"No." Frodo replied as his eyes moving towards the empty fireplace.

"So are you going to tell me, or do I have to drag it from you as always?"

"The letter is from Bilbo."

"How is he?"

"As well as ever. He asked that I recall to you that he has not forgotten what you said to him and that he may yet carry out his threat." Frodo said. Pippin blushed to the tips of his pointy ears and turned his head away from the morning glory blue of his cousin's eyes, which had turned upon him suddenly but a moment ago.

"He should have written to tell me that rather than have it passed through a messenger. He knows that I do not wish to talk of such things with others yet, for fear of teasing more than anything else."

"When you feel like enlightening me, Pip, I shall not tease you."

"Thank you, Frodo. Never let it be said that you have anything other than a heart of gold."

"And let it never be said that Peregrine Took has anything other than a silver tongue, for my heart is not golden. Not any longer at least."

"Hear! We'll not travel down that road today, thank you very much. You've been doing far to well of late to fall back into that pit."

"Yes, I have been doing well Pip, it is just…" He paused, his gaze never wavering from Pippin's face. "I miss the Ring, the power it gave me. Ever since it was destroyed I have felt…half alive…as if everything around me has been turned down."

"That was how I felt when I looked into the Palantír, though for me it was more as if I was suddenly very alone in the world."

"Pip, do you ever think about leaving the Shire again? Not permanently, but for a vacation of sorts?"

"Yes I do, on occasions at least. I always stop thinking like that after a while though, the Shire is my home now and though I yearn for adventure, I know that everything I want is here."

"But the Shire is a dream, Pip and dreams do not last forever." Frodo said after a moment of silence.  Pippin lent forward slightly in his chair, his green eyes twinkling as the sunlight caught them.

"This is not coming from nowhere is it Frodo? What else did Bilbo say to you in that letter?"

"Aragorn wanted Bilbo to visit him in Gondor this summer, but Bilbo believes his health is not up to it. He suggested that I might go in his stead."

"If you do go Frodo then I shall accompany you. For though I love the Shire, I miss Gondor and Aragorn also. Indeed I have often wished, of late, to gaze upon the white city just one more time." Pippin said.

"I am still not sure if I shall go, Pip, there are so many memories attached to the journey that we would be taking. So much pain…" He trailed and he raised a hand to massage his shoulder, his eyes staring into the middle distance for a moment.

Pippin allowed the silence to wash over him, his mind buzzing with half formed sentences and suggestions. He wished feverishly that Merry were here, for his impulsive Brandybuck Cousin always seemed able to pull Frodo away from these regressions.  Unfortunately Merry had been called back to Buckland early due to a family emergency of sorts. Pip had, of course, wished to come for fear that some ill had befallen his dear Uncle or Aunt, but Merry had made him stay,

`Frodo needs one of us to stay with him, Pip. `Was all the explanation he had been given before Merry had left.

"Perhaps the whole thing would be made better by company?" Pip enquired once the silence had grown enough to be stifling. Frodo's eyes focused quickly and a smile appeared on his face,

"Yes, perhaps it would at that. I shall think carefully about it, Pip and I shall let you know when I have made a decision."

*

"He's plottin` something or my name isn't Samwise Gamgee." Sam said as he took another sip from his ale.

"Plottin' or no, Samwise, it's best you let him be. `Master knows best` is what I always say." The Gaffer replied, his voice muffled slightly by the pipe in his mouth.

"Aye and I'd normally be the first to agree with you, but something isn't right. If I didn't know better I'd say he was workin' himself up to leave again."

"A change would do him good, Sam. He's wasting away here in the Shire."

"And I'd be the last one to keep him here if it's doing him ill, it's just…" Sam's voice trailed and his eyes fixed themselves firmly upon his mug. The Gaffer watched his son quietly; there was something on Sam's mind, that much was clear. Something important enough that the lad seemed wary to share whatever it was, for fear of rumours spreading.

He knew, however, that Sam would not keep his confidence much longer, for the lad knew that he could trust his father to keep things quiet and was aware that a problem shared is a problem halved. Indeed Sam's eyes rose again a moment later to catch onto his father's and mere seconds later he began his sentence again.

"I'm fearful that he's going to be leaving and not coming back. Back in Gondor the Lady Arwen mentioned to him that he might cross over the sea to Valinor if he continued to be pained by his wounds."

"There's a simple way to assure yourself that he's coming back, Sam and that's to go with him."

"Aye `tis sensible advice and t'aint nothing I would rather do than keep Master company."

"But?"

"I'm tied Dad, plain and simple."

"Tied?  Would ye care to explain how?" The gaffer enquired. Sam blushed then and an irrational fear gripped hard at the Gaffer's heart.

"Well I shouldn't be saying anything 'till everything's been discussed proper like, but I intend to be wedding Rose Cotton by the end of the season." Sam said. The Gaffer set his pipe to one side and stared hard at his son for a moment. He knew that it was not his place to go meddling where he wasn't wished, but he couldn't sit camlet idle on this subject.  Not when his ninnyhammer of a son was setting himself up for a fall, least ways.

"Samwise, you know that I have always thought highly of ye and your tendency to drop in on things feet first. Indeed I know that it was that tendency that saved us when we were in that horrible mess with Sharky."

"What are ye getting at, dad?"

"I think it might do you good to take some time thinking about wedding Rose. Have a talk to Mr. Frodo and see what it is he's up to and follow in his tracks if he's moving on again. Your about due for a holiday anyways, lad."

"Do you not approve of my choice, dad, is that what this is about?"

"No, it's not that lad. Rose is the best lass that I could ask for ye to wed. I just don't want you regretting your marriage is all, lad."

"But I won't, dad."

"Humour me?"

"Fine, I'll go and have a talk to Mr. Frodo."

"Thank you, Sam."

*

"And who's going to keep an eye on Bag End while your gone?" Merry enquired, the chide in his voice going altogether un-noticed by Frodo who was carefully packing items into a sack.

"You are just miffed because Frodo won't let you come with us." Pippin supplied as he ducked his head out from the kitchen. Merry attempted to look indignant for a moment, but gave up when he realised that Frodo still wasn't paying him any attention.

"Well what if I am, Pip will cause more trouble that me on the journey and yet you're still taking him."

"Correction, Merry, Pippin will cause trouble if you come with us. On his own he's a very well behaved hobbit." Frodo replied, his eyes never moving from his task. Felling altogether indignant about the cheek and the idea that he would be left out of an adventure that Pippin was going on, Merry decided that now was the time for his trump card.

"What about Sam? I bet your not even going to tell him that you are going are you?" Merry allowed himself to smile smugly as Frodo paused mid-movement, his eyes widening just a fraction.

"I do not wish him to be troubled, Merry.  He has enough responsibility with his life here in the Shire, he does not need the extra burden of worry about my life as well." Frodo said after a moment, his hands resuming their movement. Merry winced at the ice in his Cousin's voice and fully aware that he would probably regret ever asking he enquired,

"Have you two had an argument, Frodo?" That got Frodo's attention and a moment later Merry found himself pinned under the fire within Frodo's eyes.

 "No we have not had a fight, Meriadoc and even if we had it would be none of your business." Frodo said, the temperature of his voice now practically sub zero.  Swallowing and preying for assistance from any God that would listen, Merry said,

"I know that it is not my business, Frodo, but I worry about you. Sam has nothing in his life more important to him than you are, you should know that..."

"That is not true anymore, Merry, things have changed between us. Sam is courting Rose Cotton now and I have to learn to cope without him." Frodo said, interrupting Merry before he could finish his sentence. The Brandybuck wished to argue, wished to tell Frodo that somewhere along the line something must have been misunderstood. It was common Shire knowledge after all, that Samwise Gamgee had eyes for none but Frodo Baggins. There was something in his Cousin's eyes, though, a faint warning light that stayed his objections. Instead he broke out into a false grin and enquired,

"What's for lunch?"

"Fresh mushrooms, Mr. Merry." Sam replied as he entered the living room. Frodo flinched slightly at the gardener's voice and Merry couldn't help noticing the faint blush that painted his Cousin's cheeks.

"Sam, what are you doing here?" Frodo enquired once he had found his voice again. 

"I came to drop of these mushrooms, sir." Sam said as he gestured to the basket in his hands, " I knocked, sir, but you didn't hear me seamlessly."

"Yes that is it entirely, Sam, you caught Frodo a bit off guard, I am afraid. But we shall forgive you this time if you will make us something delicious with those mushrooms."

"I'll try my best, Mr. Merry." Sam said, laughter crinkling at the sides of his eyes. 

"I will help." Frodo remarked suddenly. Sam nodded in thanks and the pair retreated into the kitchen.

A moment later and Pippin appeared in the living room, an indignant look still upon his food stained face.

"Meddlesome Gamgees." He murmured as he sat himself down.

"It is your own fault, Pip. Merry supplied as he came to sit opposite his Cousin.

"My fault? You're the one who corrupted my innocent mind."

"Innocent? I am not as stupid as Frodo, Pip, plus I have seen the evidence of how `innocent` you can be without me around."

"Bah! You are just jealous that I am going to Gondor and you are not."

"True, but I am also worried, Pip. Something is not altogether right between Frodo and Sam."

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T: Da dah! Part one over and done with. I am already writing chapter two but it's causing me some strife so it might not be up for a while. I'll keep you abreast though folks. Also for those of you who know the book quite well I have a ridiculously fan girlish fact: Tomorrow is march the 13th they very day on which Frodo gets stung by Shelob! 


	2. Of illness and cunning plans

                                Golden snowflakes.

              Chapter two: of illness and cunning plans.

T: Helloooo! Yes chapter two is up and running, though unfortunately it's very short. I apologise for this in advance, you see this is kind of an in-between chapter that develops plot and makes sure chapter three (when it comes out!) makes a tiny bit a sense. Anyway now that I've made my excuses for this chapter I must make one about the last chapter…Bilbo was a little more awake than he actually is by ROTK, the reason? The elves fed him caffeine…seriously though, I know its odd, let us just agree that he was having an up day! This chapter is dedicated to ForceMuette whose review gave me a shove to finish this chapter. ForceMuette, yes EVERYONE knows about Frodo and Sam, apart apparently from Frodo and Sam. The Shire? Ehhh it reacted in a variation of ways from acceptance to disgust, though most could not care either way (kind of like today's society!) Anyway, warnings still the same and LOTR is still not mine, though I love it as if it were!!

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It was March the 13th and all preparation for the rapidly approaching trip to Gondor were put speedily to hold, for Frodo Baggins had fallen ill.

The illness had come upon the Ring barer suddenly, though not unexpectedly, in the early morning as he continued to pack for his journey. Memories had swamped him suddenly and with a cry he had fallen hard onto his back. Merry and Pippin (both of whom were now permanent residents at Bag End until the trip.) Had tried to sir their Cousin with soft words and gentle caresses, but the more they touched Frodo the more he cried and fought. Soon the Ring barer fell into a fitful sleep that was punctuated by a gentle whimpering and the constant repetition of Sam's name. Eventually the gardener was sent for and his presence calmed Frodo enough so that between the three of them he was lifted and deposited safely onto his bed.  

Once Frodo was safe Sam had moved to leave his Master's room so that he might fetch him sustenance for when he awoke. This action brought a harsh keening to Frodo's lips, which was only silenced when Sam came again to his side. Wordlessly Pippin went to fetch a chair for Sam to sit upon while Merry horded together food and drink not only for Frodo but for Sam also. Eventually the gardener was left alone with his Master, his warm brown eyes watching the rise and fall of Frodo's chest carefully. He was lost for a moment in the remembrance of a point, a year ago to the day, when to hear his Master's breath or see the flicker of movement beneath his eye lids was all that he could have wished for, all that he desired. 

Leaning forwards in the chair Sam took up one of Frodo's pail hands and held it for a moment, assuring himself that all was well and memorising again the steady thrum of Frodo's heart, strong against his skin.  Then, after a moment to think Sam began to talk, the soft rumble of his voice a cold comfort in the empty silence.

"I recall that you told me you'd been forgetting things, Sir, things that would be best for you to recall instead of the darkness that you feel at the moment. So, begin' your pardon, Sir, I thought that I might tell you of things I recall while you sleep, so that you might recall them when your awake.

"We used to play games when we were smaller, Sir, in the time when Rings were no bother to us and Mr. Bilbo was still himself. Simple games they were, things that as children we found idle delight in, but as adults seem pointless to us, though perhaps sometimes they hid deeper meanings. For your favourite game was always hide and seek, the thrill of seeing without being seen was one that was never matched in your eyes. 

"When you played with me though the rules changed, suddenly being invisible was only a temporary thrill to ye because you knew always that I'd panic if I didn't find you quickly. And so you made a new rule, un-official like, you decided that if I hadn't found you by about ten minuets into the game you'd sneak out of your hiding spot and high tale it to the Bywater Pond. You made yourself a boat and I'd always find you right in the very centre of the pond, book in hand and a smile on your young face. You'd always tell me how I was late and then you'd pat the small space at your side and ask me to join you.

"I always was frightfully afraid of the water, Sir, I'd almost drowned as a babe, something I never saw fit to tell you because the water also held another irrational fear for me. You see, Sir, I dreamt often as a child that somehow I'd lose you forever to a vast expanse of water and now that dream seems to be coming slowly true, for the sea is calling to you always now.

"That game came back to me in a flash, Sir, as I saw that boat drifting across the Anduin, empty and yet somehow full at the same time. In that moment I could almost hear you asking me to join you and the fear of loosing you destroyed the fear I had of the water.  I didn't think, Sir, not at the time, no how, I just jumped and as I sank under the water I almost believed that you were not going to get me. Not his time.

"But you did, Sir and for that I'm forever thank full." He paused for a moment, his ears again searching out the soft rush of air being pulled in then pushed out from Frodo's lungs. "I'm wondering now, Sir, if you'd still come back for me and I begin to fear that I shall see very soon if you feel that ye still need me in your life."  He said. Pausing again to listen and assure before the words continued to flow.

Down the hallway, sat comfortably in the small living room Merry told Pippin all that he had assumed and directly heard from Frodo when they had last talked

"…And he has this notion in his head that Sam's courting Rose Cotton. " he concluded. Pip shook his head and settled himself back into his chair, his green eyes free of their laughter for the moment.

"You would of thought that Frodo would have heard the Shire gossip about Rose and Fredegard Bolger by now."

"Not necessarily, Pip, Frodo has not been one to socialise of late and there has still been no proof that Rose is to wed Fatty."

"Not as yet no, but it will only be a matter of time. Not that Rose being wed or no should make a difference in things, for Sam has loved Frodo since they met."

"Perhaps that is half the problem. He has been Frodo's friend and servant for so long that perhaps he can not see that things have changed between them."

"If changed they have. I am still not quite sure on this whole thing, Merry."

"The I shall have to call you a fool of a Took, Pip, for their love shines bright enough that all see it."

"All but themselves, seemingly. I shall trust you on this Merry, for though you have often caused me trouble with your schemes you have never deliberately hurt me or any of our kin." Pip replied. Merry smiled then, content that he had stayed Pippin's concern, for now at least. He allowed the muffled sound of Sam's voice to lull him for a moment as he remembered to thank the gardener once again for all that he had done of late for his dear Cousin. 

"Well?" Pippin enquired after a moment.

"Well what?"

"What's the plan, Merry?"

"It seems to me that we have two problems. One, how to get Frodo and Sam talking about their true feelings and two how to stop Frodo from crossing over to Valinor as we know he is contemplating. Now I believe if we can do the first than the second will be done for us and so I have concentrated my efforts on solving Frodo and Sam's communication problem.

"Now they can not communicate with one another if Frodo is in Gondor and Sam is here in Hobbiton and so we need a way to assure that Sam is coming on the trip with us."

"But Frodo does not wish him to come."

"That's true, but if Sam was coming to Gondor at the request of Aragorn it would be rude of Frodo to refuse to allow him to travel with us, for convenience and company."

"And how do we get Aragorn to request for Sam's presence?"

"We merely tell him what we are planning, Pip and he will be more than willing to help, for he as the rest of us wishes Frodo to be healed."

*

           The day after Frodo's recovery was a blur of raised and crushed hopes for Samwise Gamgee. For though Frodo had been more than willing to tell his servant of where he was going and that he was indeed planning to return, he had made it very clear that he did not wish to pull Sam away from his work within the Shire. 

Despondent, Sam had returned home to his father's quite inquisitiveness as to whether Mr Frodo was indeed planning to leave Bag End. Once the Gaffer had been informed of the situation and Sam had eaten his tea, he was left fairly well to himself, to dwell over the odd moods of both his Master and his father.

Frodo's mood could be explained easily by the residual memories of darkness and the lingering threat of pain that marred his life now. The Gaffer's oddness seemed to sprout back to his return to Bagshot Row, however and seemed to have spread through out Hobbiton. For everywhere that Sam went these days he was asked about Frodo's welfare, or he was given stairs that it a time gone by he would have considered hurtful or rude. 

Long he remained awake, pipe in his mouth and thoughts churning over in his head. Indeed so long was it before he retired to bed that he had but a few moments sleep before he had to return to his duties at Bag End. 

He had not long settled down to removing the fresh growth of weeds from about the Forget-me-nots that had been Mr. Bilbo's favourite flowers when a cheery 

"Hello Sam." Distracted him from his work. Shielding his eyes against the sun he looked up into the green eyes of Peregrine Took.

"What can I do for ye, Mr Pippin?" He enquired.

"I have a message here for you Sam." The Took replied as he passed Sam a small envelope that was addressed simply ` Master Samwise Gamgee, Number Three Bagshot Row, Hobbiton in the Shire. `  "Your Gaffer gave it into my keeping as I passed up the row today." Pippin explained. Sam opened the letter carefully; the soil that still coated his fingers staining the envelope despite the caution. 

The note inside was written in a bold hand that, though new to Sam was instantly recognisable to him as the hand of Aragorn.

`Samwise,

              Minas Tirith has need of late for gardeners that not only love their art but are highly skilled within it also. The lady Arwen recalled to me your skill and reports have come to me of late that lead me to believe that you would be the best candidate of the job.

I ask that you might spare me a little of your time this summer to come to the city and give me your advice, you would not be required all of the time and you will have time to yourself that you may spend as you wish. I am aware that Frodo and Pippin are also coming to the city and perhaps you could make the journey in their company if you are loathed to make the journey on your own.

                        Aragorn. ` 

"Well what does it say?" Pippin enquired once Sam had re-folded the note.

"It is a summons from Aragorn. He wishes me to come to Minas Tirith and help him with the gardens there."

"And when does he wish you to come?"

"He wishes me to be there for summer."

"Then you shall have to come with Frodo and I."

"I'm not so sure Mr. Frodo wants me there, Mr. Pippin."

"Nonsense, Sam, he just did not want you putting yourself out. This way everyone is happy, Frodo keeps assured that he is not a burden to you and you keep assured that Frodo is not going to run off." Pippin said. Sam looked hard at the Took for a moment then he smiled,

"You're spendin' too much time around Mr. Merry, Mr. Pippin, you'll soon be too smart for your own good."

"There is no fear of that Sam, for after I have said something intelligent I often follow it up by putting my foot straight into my mouth. Took trait, you know." Pippin said. Sam shook his head and returned his attention back his work, secreting the letter into his back pocket for safekeeping. Pippin watched his friend garden for a moment then, smile on his face he went in search of Merry so that he might tell the Brandybuck that the first part of the plan had gone smoothly.

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T: Phew…well even for such a short chapter I'm beet. The basic plotline should be evident by now, though even I am still not sure about the ending. Umm…Possibility of Tom Bombadil in the next chapter though I'm still not sure if he'll make the final cut, because I relay don't understand him all that well as a character and so I might not be able to make him work convincingly in the chapter. Ooh! If you're still reading then perhaps you might like to have a guess at what Pip's secrete is when you review. The best suggestion may well be used when I get Pip to confess!

 R&R Please! I'll give you Frodo…he's a little bruised but he's still pretty! 


	3. Journies

                                          Golden snowflakes

                    Chapter three: Journeys and old acquaintances.

T: Hello my duckies! Sorry very happy today as I am again employed, but you don't want my life story. ForceMuette, yes I am aware that there area few spelling errors or wrongly timed space bar errors in the last chapter and in fact in all the chapters but as I do not have a beta reader I only tend to notice them once the chapter is up on ff.net. I'll try to rectify them as soon as I can. As you can guess by the title Tom shall be making an appearance but he's defiantly a little out of character, but I've made a go at explaining why. What else? Oh yes, LOTR is not mine; it will never be mine, though I wish it was! Warnings the same with the addition of ANGST, my old favourite. This chapter is dedicated to Tom Bombadil…we love you Tom!

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The sun was a blazing heat in the sky, its warmth a comfort from the cold that was encased around Frodo's heart.

He could hear Merry and Pippin talking to one another, their voices nothing more than part of the background noise to him now.

He knew he should be angry at Merry for convincing Sam to bring him along with them on the journey, for twisting the gardener's kindness to his advantage. But anger, as with all the other emotions was lost to Frodo now, faded into a raw unparalleled want. 

"Mr. Frodo?" That voice, Sam's voice, was the only other reality that surrounded Frodo now and the enquiry was enough to stir him from his reverie for a moment.

"Yes, Sam?"

"Shouldn't we be setting off soon?"

"Yes. Yes indeed we should, tell Merry and Pippin to saddle up, I want a moment more to myself."

"Certainly, Sir." Sam replied before he was gone again from Frodo's side. Faded for a moment into the real world.

Frodo's eyes scanned the rolling hills of Hobbiton for a moment, seeking out each new tree, brought out of nothing by Sam's hands. Eventually his eyes came to rest upon the Mallorn, standing proud in the party field, its branches still bare of flower, yet full of promise. There was a message in that fact, Frodo knew, that something alien to the Shire could grow and prosper when given the right care, a message that hope should never be lost whatever the situation. But he knew that hope too was lost within the yearning that dominated him now.

Eventually Frodo turned from the breast of the hill and after mounting his pony `Strider` started the journey with the simple cry of,

"Onwards."

*

Every twisting, twirling by-way holds a memory now. A recollection of times full of innocence and naivety.

It is a haunting kaleidoscope of images and recollections of a Hobbit I know no longer.

I have faded far now, so far that I fear I shall never find the true me again. I will be lost forever in the darkness.

I heard you talking to me…back when I was sick and your voice recalled to me a life I had almost forgotten. Not because of the words you chose, though they were a comfort also, but because of the actual harmonics of your voice. Each rumble and soft inflection recalled to me a strength, a purity and a light that I had all but forgotten here in darkness.

Even now when all I have left of my memory is fire and want, I recall that I always found comfort in your voice. The rustic edge to your words recalling to me always a home I had left far behind. Yet now even this simple comfort is beginning to be refused to me, your voice is fading into the distance, slowly vanishing into a reality that is nothing more than dreams to me.

I am left now with Its voice, cold, harsh and false compared to the living warmth of your voice. When It speaks I forget everything apart from It, apart from the want that it has placed in my heart. And that yearning is as a cold fire inside of me now, an empty passion that can never be sated.

*

The group was coming now to the border of the Shire, soon they would turn away from the path to the East and take the road to the South. From there their journey would be simple, staying the road until they came at last to the great city of Minas Tirith. 

As they crossed the Brandywine Bridge their eyes strayed to the South East, where, upon the horizon, the border of the Old Forest was just visible.

"I had wish, when we came here last, to turn down into the forest and see Tom again. Time was not on our side then, however, and so I had to curb that wish. Now, though, we may tarry, but for a little time and if you hold no objections I would ask that we might turn aside." Frodo said. The other Hobbits fell into a conference for a moment then Sam pulled his head away and said,

"It would be a pleasure to see Tom again, Sir and the Lady Goldberry also. It is just…the road to them is a dangerous one, Sir and I would not willingly take it."

"Merry? Pippin?"

"I agree with Sam, Frodo, the old forest is a dangerous place, even in these lighter times. But I feel that we might risk the journey, for if we come into trouble we may call for Tom's aid." Merry replied.

"And I feel that we shall be in no trouble whatsoever, Frodo, times being lighter as they are." Pippin said.

"Well that is three for four and the choice is made, we shall go and see Tom. Though you may continue onwards to Minas Tirith if you wish, Sam"

"No Sir, I'd rather journey into danger with company than without. I shall come with thee."

"Very well, together we shall go then." Frodo said as he tapped Strider once with his feet, bringing the horse into a steady canter.

*

As the horses came upon the edge of the forest they made a sound deep in their throats, a sound full of expectancy and joy. Squinting hard against the sunlight Frodo managed to make a figure out upon the horizon, shadowed and indistinct. Yet there was a flash of colour, an edge of blue and yellow to the figure that brought a smile to Frodo's face.

Tapping Strider again so that the horse broke out into a trot, Frodo broke away from the group and was soon rushing towards the figure.

There stood Tom Bombadil, a smile upon his face

"Welcome to you my merry fellow."

"It is very good to see you again Tom. How did you know that we were coming this way?"

"Gandalf said that you might when I saw him last." Tom said. He seemed about to say something else when the other three Hobbits road up. Merry and Pippin moved as one and soon Tom was caught up in the middle of two tight bear hugs. Had he been of a less composed nature Tom may have blushed or perhaps hugged back. As it was he extricated the Hobbits as quickly and politely as possible.

"It is good to see you Tom."

"No Merry, it is great to see him." Pippin remarked.

"And it is good to see you again my dear Hobbits." Tom remarked. Sam remained silent as he dismounted horse, but Tom caught his eyes for a moment and an understanding passed between them.

"Well my lads the Lady Goldberry is waiting."

"Then we should go, for we would love to see the Lady again wouldn't we Merry?"

"Of course we would, Pip."

*

It was midnight and the gentle sound of Merry and Pippin sleeping close to where he was sat, was a gentle comfort to Frodo. If he strained his ears he could just hear Sam, singing quietly to the Lady Goldberry as she sewed fine silver threads into a deep golden waistcoat. 

"We need to talk." Tom remarked as he approached Frodo. The cheer and playful rhythm normally evident in Tom's voice had gone and the laughter in his eyes was painful through its absence. Frodo knew then as he looked at Tom that there would be no joking as they talked, that for the moment this was the time for serious things. He pulled himself from the chair he had been sat on and followed on Tom's heals, suddenly fearful within the man's presence. 

Eventually they came to rest in a glade a few feet from the house, its grassy floor a network of silvered shadows, each caused by the cold light of the moon.

"You have changed since I saw you last." Tom said at last. "You have been wounded by stab, sting and tooth, each drawing you closer to the Ring, each pushing you further into the darkness. You are searching now for a way out of that darkness, are you not?"

"I am, though how you know that is beyond me."

"I see things that you can not, comprehend things that most never will. I am First and some day I shall be last.

"You are caught now, Frodo, that much I can tell you. Caught by the song of the Ring. The harmonies it creates, though, are but a mockery of the true song."

"What do you mean?"

"Everything has a tune within its soul, Frodo, a harmonic of the Great Rhythm of Life. The Ring has tried to create a rhythm of it own, one opposed to the Great Rhythm, a Rhythm of Death if you will. But this Rhythm and the yearning it has placed in your heart can be removed."

"How?"

"There are two ways, one that I can not tell you of, for it is not for your ears. Not yet.  The other way you already know of, replacing the false rhythm if the Ring with a true rhythm, a true yearning."

"The sea. You are talking about the sea are you not?"

"Yes, but the call of the sea is a traitorous one and the yearning it creates is as the yearning for the Ring, a thing not easily forgotten.

"Long has the sea been calling to you, Frodo, far longer than the Ring and so your yearning for it is far more of a danger to you than your yearning for the Ring. It will be the thing to tear you away from your companions and from the last source of light in your life, Frodo."

"Then the sea is not an option to me, not while the other choice still lies ahead of me."

"Until then, Frodo, the gem you wear should be of help, though I urge you only to use it when you feel you have no other choice."

"The more I use it, the more immune to its healing effects I shall become?"

"Yes."

"Then I shall use it only in need.

*

This is a dream; he knows this, yet it is reality also. He could feel the cold, clammy, presence of the air around him and the stench of the dead bodies that litter the floor before him.

He could feel the fear and the hope in his heart, both bright white lights that would not fade.

He could see Sting; feel the weight of the elfish blade (its light pail now compared to the strength with which it had burned but moments ago) a comfort to him, both in the dream and in the reality.

He could hear his voice as a song sprung from his mouth, though the part of him that was dreaming knew where he was to go. Each word that he sung was a poison to his dreaming mind, for stars could give him no hope now. What could?

The returning voice came, but there was an edge of another to the voice now.

                                                     An edge of Gollum.

Yet still he rose up the ladder behind the beast of an orc, still sliced Sting through his skin.

As he came to his Master though, there was nothing of Frodo in that naked shivering creature. No, what Sam's dreaming mind saw now was Gollum, his skin charred now by the flames of Orodruin and yet still real and living.

"Where is my Master?" He enquired, his voice still shaken, emotional.

"Hess Gone Ssam, losst in the darknessss." The creature supplied, his eyes flashing in the half-light.

"No. He's safe. This is a dream, you're a dream."

"Not a dream preciousss, no. Masstersss safe he saysss, but that'sss not true is it preciousss? No, nasssty Hobbit never found Massster. He left Massster here in the tower, losst in the darknessss."

"You're lying. Mr. Frodo's not been himself of late I'll warrant you, but he is free of this place."

"Ignorant Hobbit, not himself he saysss, but he doesn't know why does he preciousss? 

"Massster hearsss the sea now, it isss calling to him, pulling him in. Massster hasss been lost for so long now that the sea will soon be hisss only way out." The creature said. Sam knew the truth in those words and felt the fear catch him again. 

Frodo would leave; Frodo would cross the sea and never return.

"If he is still lost here how so I find him?" He enquired after a moment. 

"You mussst find the right song, the harmony that will drown the sea from hisss heart forever."

"And how can I do that?"

"You musst see thingsss that are hidden to you at the moment. You musst learn to read him again, you must lean to talk to him again and most importantly you musst learn to place your faith in starss again." The creature remarked before he faded away and Sam was looking at his master at last.

As Sam drifted back into his normal dreams again, the fear that Frodo would leave him was suddenly replaced in his heart with a keen desire, one he had thought he would never feel again.

The desire to find his master again no matter what the cost was to his own life.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

T: There we go. Just a few bits of explanation to help you enjoy the story a little bit more:

1. I've always seen Tom as a character with the potential to have a threat of danger to him (A bit like Gandalf) and so I made the assumption that there is another side to Tom that we don't see in LOTR. Of course this theory is going to go topside when I read the Adventures of Tom Bombadil, but until that point it stays!

2. The idea of Goldberry sewing was one that wouldn't leave me alone and so I put it in. I am aware that she probably isn't a housework type of wife but still it works…kind of.

3. Finally the imagery in the last little bit is very important. Not only is Sam linking Frodo and Gollum together in his mind he is also using Gollum as the face to present ideas and opinions that he does not wish to hear or that he does not understand. For me using Gollum as the presenter of these opinions was just showing you guys that EVERYONE has a bit of Gollum inside of them somewhere.

Anyway Chapter four is being worked on, but I wont have much free time now so I warn you that there may be a VERY big gap. I will try my best to get it out ASAP as I have no desire to lose the nice reviews your giving me, or in fact your interest.


	4. searching

                                Golden snowflakes

                           Chapter four: Searching

T: Ta da, the brand new chapter four, which is like the old chapter four but manipulated a little to give a better read all round. Endymion I can fully understand you wish not to read to the end of ROTK I also find it sad yet I never have the strength to just stop reading…its so blooming addictive!

Not mine, never mine, sad. Umm  I recall angst in this chapter so I'll put and ANGST warning on. Onwards…

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Since the group had left the Old forest over two weeks ago a fine, yet, perceivable divide had come upon them.  Merry and Pippin rode now at the head of the group, there voices blended together in discussion of the last time that they had passed this terrain. Frodo rode just behind them, his eyes taking in the lay of the land and a faint smile perceivable upon his lips. Whenever the conversation between his Cousins turned sour and they began to recall darker things, he would spur Strider forwards and begin to sing one of the many Hobbit walking songs that he knew. The joy at hearing such cheerful tunes flowing again from their Cousin soon cheered Merry and Pippin and their voices would join Frodo's in a soft harmony that had been long lost.

This change for the better in Frodo's temperament was mirrored by a change for the worst in Sam's.  For each night now the gardener was haunted by the dream of Cirith Ungol and the sharp hauntingly true full words of the creature he found there. Yet the dream did not end now with the fading of the creature, for instead of being returned to the half recalled reality of that time and place, Sam was pushed further into the new reality that Gollum had forged for him. For, as Gollum faded now Frodo's form did not take his place, instead Sam was left alone in the tower with Sting in his hands and the sure weight of the Ring about his neck. And each night now he searched vainly for his Master, finding nothing in the dank corrupt place but bodies and death. 

The restless nights had begun to take their toll upon the Hobbit a week ago, first his mood shifting from its normal gentleness into a sharp skittish edge that had him snapping at the simplest of things. Not long after the turn in his nature his appearance had begun to suffer also, his eyes developing heavy bags beneath them and his skin becoming pinched and pail.

Merry had been the first to notice the changes in the stout Hobbit and he had determined that it was best for him to observe his friend so that he might learn the source of the sudden change. He did not have long to wait, for, but a day after he had noticed the changes, he was woken in the very middle of the night by Pippin, wide eyed and shaking like a leaf.

"What is wrong, Pip?" He enquired.

" 'm scare, Merry." The Took replied, burring his head hard into his Cousin's chest.

Alert now Merry pushed himself up onto his elbows, careful not to disturb Pippin from where he obviously found security. His eyes went instantly to Frodo, for, only the agitation of their Cousin would bring Pippin crawling to him as if he were still a three year old. Frodo seemed to be sleeping soundly, however, his arms splayed before him and his breathing etched in the rhythm of deep sleep.

"What has got you so worked up Pip?" He enquired softly. "Frodo seems fine to me." Pip raised his head then and replied,

"It is not Frodo, Merry. It is Sam." One shaking finger pointing in the direction of where the gardener was camped for the night.

His eyes turned now in that direction, Merry could see that Sam was tossing in his sleep, his voice (quiet enough so that Merry had to strain to hear it.) spilling out an incoherent jumble of words and sentences.

"I knew something was wrong." He said, more to himself than Pippin. The Took seemed intrigued by the words though and calmer now he enquired,

"Do you think we can help him?"

"I do not think we can, Pip, not unless we get him to talk to us about whatever is bothering him."

"Then we ask him."

"It is not so simple as that. Sam's a prideful Hobbit, Pip, you know that as well as I. If we ask him he will simply lie and tell us everything was well."

"Then we tell Frodo, Sam will not be able to refuse him the truth."

"True though that is, we can not get Frodo involved. He does not know that anything is ill and I wish to keep it that way for as long as I can."

"Then what do we do?" Pip enquired. Merry shrugged his shoulders and then began to think. It was not an easy task, for Sam's voice had risen in volume and though the words were still not clear the fear behind them was.

A solution came to him suddenly though and releasing Pippin's hold upon him, he crawled out towards Sam's side. Once there he could see clearly the beads of perspiration upon Sam's brow and could hear one word clearly among the jumble.

"Master."

That one word made everything frighteningly clear to Merry, Sam was reliving the nightmare of a time and a place that he himself had no wish to hear of again. Yet still he reached out and took one of Sam's nut-brown hands into his own, a wan smile creasing at his lips as the action stilled the gardener instantly.

"Samwise." He said after a moment, his voice pitched low and the rhythm of his words slow now, as one talking to a person heavily hypnotised. "Samwise, speak to me. Whither do you walk in shadow of dreams?" For a moment he feared that there would be no reply, that the trick he had learned many years ago from his father, would turn out to be nothing more than just an illusion. Then he was rewarded by the distant rumble of Sam's voice, which sounded oddly distant in the sudden hush of the night.

"I walk the corridors of Cirith Ungol."

"Why do you walk such paths? Now that your quest lies far behind you?"

"My quest is not behind me, not yet. For I have left my Master here within this place." Those words were enough of a shock to start both Merry and Pippin, who had come to his Cousin's side as soon as Sam had calmed. 

"Why does he think such a thing, Merry? Especially now when Frodo seems to be coming into himself again?" Pip enquired.

"I do not know, Pippin. I think, perhaps, that we should ask him."

"You do it, Merry. It seems wrong to be talking to him when he is like this…he seems so vulnerable somehow." And that, Merry suddenly realised, was why Pippin had been so afraid. Sam had been the one their minds had looked to when their strength had begun to fail them, the one they had thought of when Orcs had surrounded them and there had been little hope of escape.  Yet now, when everything seemed to be fine at last, Sam was frightened and that meant that logically there was something to be very much afraid of.

Merry found that his mouth was suddenly dry and it took a moment for his voice to form the question that Pippin had posed him.

"Why do you search still for your Master, Samwise? When he walks beside you now in the light of reality." Sam twitched and for a moment, just a moment, the shadows on his face made him seem to Merry all too much like a figure that both Bilbo and Frodo had described to him. When the shadows shifted, restoring Sam's face back to his own again (yet burned in Merry's mind was that brief moment when it had been something else.) and the stout Hobbit began to talk again Merry knew that he was hearing Gollum, or as much of Gollum as Sam's rich voice could imitate.

"Masstersss gone, my preciousss, losst long ago to It. Hearsss nothing but It now. Doesn't even hear Sam anymore does he preciousss? No. Massster hears the Sea, the nasssty tricksssy Sea" And with that Sam was still again. 

Merry was frozen now, his eyes fixed firmly upon Sam's brow and his ears still full of the Sam/ Gollum's words.

"The Sea." He said, almost to himself.

"Frodo has always yearned to see the Sea, Merry. Mother always used to say that his craving for the Sea would be the death of him. That he would vanish like old Isengar." Pippin said.

"Yes, the Sea has always called to him and now he has a reason to go."

"Arwen's gift?"

"Arwen's gift."

"Then let us prey that Sam gets to him very soon, Merry. Or else…" Pippin cloaked then and was unable to finish his sentence. Merry looked hard at his Cousin then nodding once, decisively, to himself, he said.

"Or else we shall lose Frodo forever."

*

Frodo was the only one of the four Hobbits that woke the next day feeling entirely rested. Merry and Pippin both showed signs of the poor night they had had and on this day no songs were started by Frodo or his Cousins as they journeyed.

Though Merry did not believe Frodo ignorant to Sam's condition he had thought that he had blinded himself deliberately, for similar reasons as to why Pippin had had no wish to see Sam weak and scared. And so it came as a small surprise to him when, at breakfast, Frodo had taken him to one side and enquired,

"Have you noticed anything off about Sam of late, Merry? I am sure that my imagination is just running away with me, but…" Frodo paused mid sentence and waited patiently for an answer. 

Merry contemplated, for a moment, telling his Cousin the truth ` yes, Frodo, something is wrong with Sam. He's driven himself half mad worrying about you and your fascination with the Sea. The worst thing is both Pip and I think he may have a point. `  But he knew, somehow, that the truth, the real unsullied truth, would have to be told to Frodo by Sam and not himself. And so, swallowing down the bile that had risen suddenly into his stomach, Merry flashed Frodo a false smile and replied,

"He is probably just getting used to sleeping on the road again, Frodo, a few poor nights is enough to make anyone look a little off."

"Yes, I am sure that you are right, Merry. Thank you." And with that He was gone again.

"Elbereth." Merry prayed under his breath, "Do whatever you can to make sure that I never have to lie to him like that again."  Before he followed on Frodo's heals.

*

Merry had been right in his belief that Frodo had blinkered himself deliberately from the change in Sam, and though his Cousin was very aware that Merry had been lying to him, he had no wish to acknowledge that fact. A lie was easier to believe than the truth after all, the truth that somehow Sam knew about his addiction and that he had given up the hope of ever pulling Frodo from the lure of the Sea. 

If that was true what hope did Frodo have of resisting it, as he had promised Tom that he would? What hope did Frodo have for refusing to take the one definite cure for the whole the Ring spell had left in his heart. None. None whatsoever.

As if sensing his Master's discomfort Strider shifted slightly beneath him, the horse's unease a distraction from the trail of logic that his mind was creating. Frodo stretched his right hand to calm the beast and was made suddenly aware of the gap in his hand where once a finger had stood. 

Now that his mind was again aware of the wound, it began to create fine, gossamer thin threads of connection, between it and the previous path of his thought. `If this wound could not pull you from the Ring spell, ` the inner working of his mind stated, `Then what shall it take for you to release the sea from your heart? ` His eyes lifted from his hands then and settled upon Merry and Pippin, still riding at the head of the group, but their words together now sour and dark. `They almost died fighting for you. ` Continued the thought, `almost died because you could not give up the Ring, could not free yourself of its embrace.

`Will it take one of their deaths to wake you from the Sea's Siren song? ` His mind enquired.  He was struck suddenly by the all too real image of Pippin, coated in blood that had spilled from several deep wounds upon his body and his eyes wide open yet coated now in the thin glaze of death. 

A harsh cry fell from his lips and he toppled backwards off of Strider, thankfully missing the horse's hooves by mere millimetres. A moment later he was gazing into the deep brown of Sam's eyes and it took a great effort on his part to ignore the shadows beneath those eyes, to retain his lie.

"Mr Frodo?" He enquired.

"I am fine, thank you, Sam. I must have lost my balance for a moment." He said as he gained his feet. 

As he re-mounted Strider his eyes caught the deep furrow of worry upon Sam's brow and for a moment Frodo forgot to believe the lie that his friend was well. For, as he looked at Sam in that moment all of his fears and all of his belief coalesced into one clear thought.

`Your addiction shall kill him, as surely as if you plunged a knife into his heart. ` 

*

As the Gap of Rohan came, finally, within sight of the group, both Merry and Pippin had pleaded for a chance to turn northwards so that might go to Isengard and see the Ents. This suggestion was met with little resistance from either Frodo or Sam, who both agreed that there would be little danger in turning aside for a day. And so as the sun reached its highest point the Hobbits came again to the Treegarth of Orthanc.

 Treebeard was waiting for them as they crossed what had once been the gateway into Isengard and he greeted both Merry and Pippin kindly by saying,

"Hoom, I have missed you my merry folk, especially when we have needed for those more hasty of nature." And Merry smiled at this, all his care and concern washed away from him for a moment.

"Pip and I have missed you also Treebeard. Indeed we thought of you often as we walked the Shire, or more rightly we thought of the Ent Wives.

"But I shall not talk to you of them, for we have not seen them as we hoped we might. Instead I shall ask how things go here, if I may?"

"Hoom, indeed you may, Meriadoc. There is little left to do now and we may now watch things grow and prosper here without having to concern ourselves with improving."

"Do ye think I might be allowed to see what you have done, Mr Treebeard?" Sam enquired, his eyes fixed on the great expanse of plant life that surrounded them.

"Hoom, I would gladly show you everything, Master Samwise."

"What of us Treebeard?" Pippin enquired. Treebeard laughed then, the sound ringing true and clear around them. "Patience is a virtue that would be well for you to learn, Peregrine, for I was just coming to you. I will send an Ent to take you somewhere where you may rest a little and talk without fear of being listened to by any but yourselves."

"I had hoped that we might talk to one another, Treebeard, while we stayed here."

" I am sure that Treebeard will find time to show Sam what he wants to see and to talk to us, Pip." Merry remarked, something in the way that he said the words warning Pippin not to comment. Looking to Merry, Pip saw him mouth the words ` We will talk later`, he nodded so that Merry knew he had understood and then was quiet.

*

"Why did you do that Merry?" Pippin enquired, his voice dropped down in a whisper so that Frodo (Who had fallen asleep in the shade of a tree) did not hear him.

"I am sorry, Pip, but I could not let you convince Treebeard to stay with us today. I think he might just help Sam."

"But why?"

"Because in a way, Pip, the Ents and Sam have a great deal in common. Both love the soil, understand and interpret its rhythm so that they might use it to bring forth life. More importantly though, the Ents will understand the search he is performing every night in his dreams. They will understand a little of why he is doing what he is."

"Yes, but why did it have to be Treebeard?"

"Because we know Treebeard and Sam knows him through our tales. He will trust him and that is the most important thing at this point."

"You are thinking that once he had told Treebeard, it will make it easier for him to talk to Frodo, are you not?"

"Yes. We both know that Sam is the key to getting Frodo back, but I am more than a little afraid that Sam…"

"Has given up hope?"

"Yes. It is a very frightening prospect, pip, one I do not like to contemplate."

"The plan will hold, Merry, once they start talking everything will set itself to rights."

"I know and I am very tempted to say that we should move the plan forwards, that we should get them talking now. But…"

"Minas Tirith is safer, yes?"

"Defiantly. If things turn sour while we are at Minas Tirith there will be people who can help them both. Solutions to any problem that may arise. Here the only thing that will keep them together if things go wrong is us and I very sure that I would not be strong enough to bare such a burden."

"If things turn sour, Merry, even in Minas Tirith, there is the great danger that one of them shall not come out of this alive."

"I know, Pip. Let us prey that nothing goes wrong."

*

 There was something in the Ents voice as he talked, a base note that sung to Sam of not only the grief that the creature was talking of, but also of the ages that he had seen pass. It was almost as if the rhythm of his voice, rather than the words themselves were telling his story.

Eventually the great Ent ceased and turned his eyes onto the Hobbit. It was like gazing back through the years that the Ent had lived while seeing his present also. It gave Sam an almost disjointed feeling for a moment, as if he was both there in the past and here in the present.

"Will you tell me your tell?" The Ent enquired after a moment.

"Of course, though I am afraid that mine shall not be half as sad or beautiful as yours, Sir." And with that Sam began to spin his tale. 

He tried to work as much of his heart as he could into each and every image and soon he was not just telling the tale but reliving it also. He would pause every now and again to explain things to the Ent or to allow the Ent to fill in some of the gaps within his narrative.

Only once did he true fully falter in the narrative and that was as he reached the point where Frodo and he had come to Cirith Ungol, the spiders pass. He was locked in the memory of that time, in the memory of darkness and despair. He could see Frodo before him, so very pail and his body devoid of the gentle rise and fall of his chest.

"Master Samwise?" The Ent enquired, his voice stirring Sam back to the present.

"I was lost in remembering for a moment, Sir."

"You do not have to continue, of this part of the tale I have heard already from Master Meriadoc and Peregrine."

"No offence to them, Sir, but they weren't there to see things first hand." And with that Sam was again spinning his tale, each word now filled with grief and despair. He talked shamefully of the temptation he had felt from the Ring and then he talked of how he had refused to give in, how he had known that the time to fall into such traps was gone.

As he talked of Minas Morgul there was an edge of something else in his voice and as he had talked of finding Frodo at last, Treebeard enquired,

"You do not believe that you truly found him do you?"

"No." Sam had replied and he had gone on to describe his dream and the fears settling into his heart. 

Once the tale was at last finished Treebeard had chuckled and said,  

"It seems to me, Master Samwise, that not all Hobbits are hasty folk, just as not all Ents are slow. You have shown a patience in this that almost outshines the strength of your will and loyalty. 

"It seems to me that you would do well to keep that patience. Do not become hasty just because the world around you has suddenly sped up. You must keep your faith, just as I have kept mine all of these long years." 

And it was that advice that remained with him much later in the evening, when the Ent himself had long ago left to fulfil his promise to Merry and Pippin and the moon was rising steadily in the sky. 

Hope had always been the one thing that he had retained as he walked within Mordor and each time he had come close to releasing that hope, that strength of faith, something would come along to restore it again. He had believed, but a week before he had begun this journey, that fate was insuring his safe return home to Rose. Now…

Now, free of the Shire and the shear joy of being safe, of the knowledge that Frodo was safe, he had begun to see things very differently. And it was this change he was contemplating now, sat on a small rise and staring into the inky black of night. 

As he had crossed the last expanse of the journey to Orodruin he had pictured Rose's face on several different occasions and each time she had been wearing a mantle of white lilies upon her brow, the mantle of a bride. Rose's face (complete with wedding mantle) had been the first in his mind as Bilbo had handed him the gold. Yet now Rose's face (now devoid of its mantle) had taken a home in his heart that had once been solely occupied by the faces of his Sisters. 

For had Rose not been as a Sister to him? Kissing his wounds better just as Daisy had? Joining in when he and May had gone to pick the first Strawberries of Summer? And had she not been his best friend also? Listening without comment as he talked of how much he hated Ted Sandyman? Where in all of that had been a Rose who had stolen Spring kissed from him? Blushed when he complimented her? That Rose, a Rose who could be easily identified as a lover, had never completely existed beyond the confines of his water-starved mind.

He could see now that those images of Rose, his imagined love for her, had begun the moment he had walked out of Cirith Ungol. At a point where he had been very much alone, a point where he had needed something to take his mind away from the empty shell that had once been his Master. Of course his mind would fall to Rose, who had fate fallen differently, may have been the lass he would have wed. As it was now he had changed and he had seen that idea in her eyes as he had rallied her brothers and father together so that they might scour the Shire of Sharky. 

The day before he had left upon this journey he had ridden down to the Cotton farm again and had asked Rose for a moment. She had fixed him within her eyes again and taking his hand said,

"Sam, things aren't as ye believe they are. Take ye father's advice and think on things. If ye come back from where ye are going and still wish to talk to me I shall listen gladly." And with that she had gone.

Those words and the odd wisdom behind them made Sam smile for the first time in weeks. There was a faith to them, a core belief that he could not do ill, that restored a little hope to his heart.

"We need to talk." He said to himself. "But Treebeard is right, I can't rush things. Not with everything at stake. 

"No it's best I wait to talk to him at Minas Tirith, where the call of the Sea shall be at its quietest." And with the decision made he felt his heart lift completely and he knew that he would rest well this night.

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T: Endymion I am aware that you probably wanted a little more interaction between Treebeard and Merry and Pippin but I put it in and it spoiled the whole rhythm of the thing. Ending the chapter here you see takes the reader (a.k.a you) nicely into the next chapter. Where as if you end it on a Merry and Pippin moment you end up with a forced ending. Also there was little I could actually change about this chapter without spoiling the point of it in the series, I've tried a little manipulation of the Sam and Treebeard bit but that's about as far as it goes I'm afraid.

Let us just agree that this will be the bad chapter  in the series (every series needs a bad chapter I assure you!)


	5. Calm and storm

                                          Golden snowflakes.

                                   Chapter five: calm and storm.

T:   Endymion, *sigh*, yes, I agree that the last chapter was a little `hasty` and so I'm going to be re-writing it in the next week. This means that chapter six will be a little late, but it shouldn't be by much, probably a day at the most! As to Frodo and Sam having never met the Ents before, I also thought that was the case until I carefully re-read the end of ROTK, now it doesn't state categorically that they met but the fellowship tarried with the Ents for a rather long time and so the assumption is that they must have been introduced. However to keep the peace I may write two versions of my replacement chapter four, one with the Ents and F+S having never been introduced and one where they have.  But I might not have the time to do this so we shall see. 

I also felt that this would be a twenty chaptered story but I can only get as far as seven chapters without repeating the plot line and so I'm going to stop at seven. It's basically so that the story remains a fairly good one, dragging things out more than the plot will allow tends to make stories turn sour very quickly.

Warnings remain the same with a slight turning up of the ANGST in this chapter so beware. Also a decided lack of Merry and Pip in this chapter but they're coming back in the next with a vengeance!

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They road into Minas Tirith at the head of a crowd, three of the four Hobbits still baring the mark of the ill rest they had suffered upon the road. This was fading now, however, just as strong bruises tend to fade.

Aragorn greeted them in a manner befitting each, bowing to the ex-Ring barer, saluting Merry and Pippin and shaking Sam by the hand. Once the crowd had dissipated it was to the stout Hobbit that the King had spoken first.

"I am glad to see you Sam, for Arwen has asked often of late to see blooms in the gardens that I do not know how to tend or plant."

"Think nothing of it, mister Strider. All I ask is that one of ye men shows me the way to the gardens and I'll be content to do as I can."

"We can do better than that, Samwise." Came the melodious voice of the Lady Arwen herself. She was stood a little behind her husband and had, until she had spoken, been hidden in shadow. Now in the soft light of early morning her beauty seemed to shine from her face, the rise in her abdomen speaking a little of the reason for this healthy glow.

"If your friends are willing to spare you, Samwise, I would take you to the gardens myself and tell you what I would dearly love to see within them." The Lady said.

"I do not believe that we could keep him here, even if we wished to, Lady. For he now has the gracious offer of your company to tempt him away."  Pippin remarked. Arwen smiled at the compliment and gesturing for Sam to follow her, headed away from the company.

"As to you young Master Took, Master Brandybuck, what do you intend to do on this fine day?" Aragorn enquired after a moment. 

"I thought that I might go to Emyn Arnen to visit Beregond."

"And I shall accompany him, Strider, for I dearly wish to see the Lady Éowyn again." Merry said.

"Then go now, before you run the risk of reaching Emyn Arnen after night fall. But mark this, I will not allow you to spend all of your time there with Faramir, for I have wish to talk to you again."

"We shall be back by tomorrow at the latest, Aragorn. Until then you make talk as much as you wish to Frodo and Sam, if you can tear him from the garden that is." Merry stated as he and Pippin re-mounted their horses. They were gone in a moment, their voices raised clear in farewell long after they were but dots upon the horizon. 

"Shall we walk the gardens, Frodo?" Aragorn enquired once the silence had stretched before them enough to be uncomfortable. 

"Yes. I believe I would like that, Strider, for it has been many weeks since I have smelt the sweetness of Summers fresh blooms."

*

"Much has happened since I saw you last, Strider."

"That I can tell by the light in your eyes, Frodo. Will you tell me of what has happened?" Aragorn enquired.  Frodo paused mid-step and his eyes strayed out across the gardens where the bent crook of Sam's back was just visible upon the horizon. 

"On the way here we stooped for a while in the Old Forest. Tom could see all that had befallen me since we had last met and he could see my yearning for the Ring also."

"It is a thing not easily forgotten, Frodo, though I had thought in time that you might."

"Yes. So did I at one point. Now though…"

"You do not have to tell me if you do not wish to, Frodo."

"Thank you. But I must talk of this to someone.

"Tom told me that the Sea could rid me of my yearning for the Ring and I know that to be the truth. However, I know also that crossing the Sea, travelling to Valinor, will bring about pain and perhaps even death to one or more of my friends.

"There is another cure also, but Tom would not talk of it with me. And so I feel trapped, for it seems to me that I will soon have no choice but to take the path to the Sea,"

"Of this other cure I have long known, Frodo, but I believe you must find it of your own volition or it shall lose its potency."

"Yet time is running short, Strider, I must cross with Bilbo or not cross at all. And remaining here while I crave the Ring… while I am half healed…it is not a thing I wish to do."

"I can only assure you that things will sort themselves out, Frodo. Until they do, however, let us talk together of something other than the Ring or the Sea. Tell me how the Shire fares."

"It is as if Saruman never came there, in fact things are better now for we are graced with the beauty of the Mallorn."

"Has it bloomed yet?"

"No, but it will, it has been tended by Sam after all. I believe he has magic in his hands, no matter what he himself believes."  Frodo said. A silence flowed between the two of them and the soft lilt of Sam's voice, raised in a song.

Though Frodo barely recalled the time from which the song came, he felt an odd chill soaking through his bones as the first words washed around him.

"In western lands beneath the Sun" Those words recalled to him darkness and a time full of fear and doubt. As the song continued the back of Frodo's neck began to throb and he felt suddenly trapped.

"Aragorn?" He enquired, his breath laboured now, as if his chest was bound, thus restricting his breathing. 

"Yes, Frodo?"

"Do you think we might talk inside now?" He enquired. Aragorn regarded him silently for a moment then replied.

"Of course, Frodo" And together the pair turned and headed into the building, their steps trailed by the soft lilt of Sam singing.

*

By late afternoon the soil surrounding him was awash with a rainbow's spread of colours.  Arwen had left him not long after she had told him what she wished done in the garden but had returned a little after noon and was watching him now from a small stone bench a few inches from where he was working. 

"Rest a moment, Samwise." She suggested as he paused to wipe the sweat from his brow. "For I would like your company, if only for a moment." He complied willingly, the joints of his back crackling slightly as he stood.

"Thank you, my Lady." He mumbled as he came to sit at her feet."

"You are weary, Samwise." She said after a moment. "And not just from tending my gardens. Something troubles you greatly, something that you may tell me if you think it shall help."

"I believe you know what I would tell you, my Lady."

"You worry still for Frodo?"

"Yes. You see, I've been dreaming of late that I did not find him in Cirith Ungol on that day and though it is but a dream I begin to believe that there is an element of truth to it. 

"Because although I rescued something that day, it was not Frodo, not truly. For the spell of the Ring had already claimed what little there was of him and even once it was destroyed he didn't come back to me.

"For the Sea had already claimed him and your gift, beggin` your pardon Lady, has only increased his temptation for it."

"Then he yearned for the Sea even before I bestowed my gift to him?"

"Yes. The yearning for the Sea has ever been in his heart since I've known him and perhaps even before."

"This I truly did not know, Sam, for if I had I may not have bestowed to him the even star. 

"For a yearning for the Sea is a thing not easily destroyed and many great men have perished at the hands of one who has fallen to its call. Yet what else could have been done? Your Master will find rest in Valinor that he shall not gain by staying here upon Middle Earth."

"And what of us left behind, Lady? For there shall be no following him on this occasion shall there?" 

"Not at this point in time, no. But you at least might follow him in time, Sam, for you bore the Ring also, if only for a short amount of time."

"And what of Merry and Pippin? They too shall be broken by his leaving, more perhaps than even I, for they are his kin. Shall they be forced to remain here as first Frodo and then myself cross over into paradise without them?"

"I fear it must be as such, Sam, for what other alternative is there?"

"I'll find Frodo, my Lady. I'll find my Master and I'll pull him away from the song of the Sea and the Ring."

"I admire your determination, Samwise, but I fear that this time even your strength may not be enough to save Frodo." '

"Then I shall die trying, Lady." He replied. Arwen regarded him with a sad understanding for a moment and then said,

"Tell me about the Shire, Sam, about the life you have given it."

"`Twasn't me, my Lady, but the gift of your Grandmother that breathed life back into the Shire's soil. Everything is at its peak at the moment and I was loathed to leave it all. Especially the Mallorn, for it was to bloom soon, I could feel it in my stomach."

"That a Mallorn is growing that far to the East is further proof of your skill, Sam, for even with my Grandmother's gift, the Mallorn may not have grown at all."

"'Twasn't nothing, my Lady, just care and love. Rose believed I had a gift with me hands also, came close to making me believe it, but in my arrogance I let plants die and me Gaffer talked the sense back into me head after that."

"Who is this Rose you speak of, Sam? A lass you are courting perhaps?" Arwen enquired. Sam blushed scarlet and replied,

"No lady. She was but…"

"But?"

"Time away from her has made me see that I love her more as a sister than anything else."

"Then it was well that we asked you here."

"It was fate, Lady."

"Fate, Sam?"

"Yes Lady, for fate is something I have always believed strongly in."

"Then I hope that fate continues to be kind, Sam.

"How are young Master Took and Master Brandybuck?"

"As troublesome as always, Lady. Though they've both grown up a little of late and it shows in the way that they deal with certain things in their lives.

"Mr. Merry's developed a real head for problems and I often see him now answering questions people have posed him. He's also more grave and responsible and though it's a little sad to see his flippant nature laid to rest, I know that it's a good thing in the end. 

"Mr. Pippin's not quite so foolhardy as he was, though some of his childishness is there and I'm glad of that fact. He's still the youngest of us after all.

"He and Merry are hardly apart now and I wonder sometimes if Mr. Pippin's not coming to rely too heavily on Mr. Merry."

"I doubt that that is the case, Sam. Both have lost things close to them in recent times and so it is only logical that they would wish to lose no more. Thus they hold hard onto one another, for fear of loosing their friendship."

"If that is true, Lady, then why is it that Mr. Frodo's losses are making him push his friends away rather than keep them close?"

"For that I have no answer, Sam. Or at least I have none that you would wish to hear."

*

She had left Sam not long after that and retired for a while to her bedroom so that she might gather together he thoughts.

She immerged again as the sun was heading slowly westwards, its light an orange fire upon the horizon. She walked with the grace befitting her kind, her dark eyes seeking out one that she knew would be close. Clenched tight within one hand was a small conch shell, its presence here part of an irrational hope that somehow it would help the one she sought.

Soon she found him, his small form stood beneath the White Tree his eyes staring hard at some middle distance that only he could perceive.

"Frodo?" She enquired. The sound of his name turned his head to her but for a moment his eyes were still focused on that unperceivable middle distance. It was only a moment, however, and the glazed look left his eyes so fast that she almost believed that she had imagined it.

"What can I do for you, Lady?"

"I wished to bestow to you this." She said as she passed him the shell. "My father gave it to me the last we met and he told me that should my heart ever yearn for the Sea I could lift this shell to my ear an hear it's song. I thought that it might be of some help to you."  Frodo lifted the shell to his ear for a moment and a shadow lifted from him that she had not been able to perceive until the moment it left him.

"It is beautiful." He replied eventually  as he lowered the shell to his side again.

"I thought also that we might talk a little of the choice I made available to you the last we met."

"I do not believe there is anything to discuss, Lady." He replied as he tucked the shell into his belt. Arwen had to admire the diplomacy of that reply for it was neither an answer nor was it a complete refusal to answer at all. 

"I did not wish to push you towards crossing the Sea, Frodo, by giving you the option. I wished to give you a choice of ways to go forward from where you had come to rest."

"That I knew already, Lady. Yet the fact that the option of crossing over into Valinor is only one of a spectrum of choices does not change the fact that it is the only one that I can take."

"You know that is not the truth, Frodo. For I see through your eyes that you know of another option that you might take, that you know it but fear it also." She said. She watched with interest as Frodo's eyes dropped from hers and his mind turned inwards so that he might search himself to see if he did indeed hold the knowledge that she claimed he did. Arwen knew that he would find nothing, that this knowledge was hidden beneath a vast sediment of lies that had been told to himself so that he might create a false reality in which he could live. To make him doubt the truth of that reality though, to make him question himself, might be enough to begin to dislodge the sediment so that he might find the truth and begin to heal completely.

"You are mistaken, Lady." He replied after a moment, "I have no knowledge of another choice and even if it should come to me I no longer believe that it shall be of any aid. My time is running very short after all." And as he said it she knew it to be the truth. For if he had not begun to heal before he kin headed across the Sea to Valinor, she knew that Frodo would have to be amongst their number. She recalled suddenly the words Sam had spoken to her that had shocked her enough so that she had lead the subject away from the course it had been taking. 

`I will die trying.` He had said and she knew that there had been nothing but truth in those words. She also knew that as with Frodo's beliefs, there was a deeper truth to the words one buried where only she could find it.  The truth that should Sam not be able to keep Frodo upon Middle Earth by ether living or dying he would keep his Master there by force. He would in other words kill both himself and Frodo.

Leaning slightly forwards so that she might catch Frodo's attention again, she said,

"You know what will happen should you take this option, Frodo. For you have seen it already. You know also that keeping your emotions and thoughts to yourself is helping no one.

"Talk to him, Frodo. You know as well as I that if anyone can help you it is him. If you do not talk to him…" She trailed her sentence deliberately and straightened herself up. Frodo was shaking and what little colour had been within his face was gone but he still found his voice to enquire,

"Where is he?"

"By now? He talked of going up onto the walls to watch the sun set and to remember."

"Thank you." He said, before he turned and headed in the direction of the walls. 

*

Sam was indeed sat upon the wall, his eyes turned to the distant shadow of Mordor.

"Remembering?" Frodo enquired.  Sam's head turned slightly towards the sound of Frodo's voice and he nodded once before he turned his head again to the horizon, one hand tapping the wall beside him as an invitation for his Master to join him.

"It seems so long ago now, doesn't it, Master?" He enquired after a moment.

"Yes. So very long ago and so very far away. I believe sometimes that we were in a different world, Sam." Frodo paused and his eyes lifted to take in the shadow upon the horizon before they both spoke at the same time.

"Sam?"

"Sir?" 

Frodo began to laugh, the sound beautifully lyrical, before he enquired,

"Do you wish to talk first or shall I?"

"I wish to, Sir, before I loose me nerve."

"Then talk." Frodo said. Sam turned to face his Master entirely and Frodo noticed instantly that for the first time in over a year Sam was afraid.

"It all started that night we were at Tom's, Sir. I was dreaming of the dark tower, dreaming of all that happened in that place. But things changed, Sir, my dream twisted and showed me something which let me see how blind I've been recently.

"I'm scared, Sir, that you're becoming too addicted and that I never truly found you in that place."

"Why would you believe something like that, Sam?"

"Because `tis the only thing that makes real sense, Sir, the only thing that slots together all of the jigsaw pieces if you'd rather."

"I do not understand, Sam."

"No Sir, but if you'll let me explain myself you will. You see `twas only after you'd left that place that you changed. When something about you was gone, lost forever. At first I thought `twas the Ring. That its siren caught you and mayhap that was part of it, but it wasn't everything.

"No, the real  truth was that the Frodo the Orcs took in there and the one that I dragged out were two different people.  I only realised what had changed about you after I had had my dream, after I knew the true source of your addition.

"For once I knew that it was the Sea that your soul craved I knew that you had changed because your desire to stay here upon Middle Earth was gone."

"That is not true, Sam. I crave the Sea, that I will admit readily, but that I wish to flee this place, that I have given up? How can you believe such a thing?"

"How can I not? All of us suffered during the Quest, Frodo, all of us lost something of ourselves. But of the four of us you are the only one who is pushing away what you have left, you are the only one rejecting your old life. What sort of a message do you think that gives out?" Sam enquired. Frodo regarded his friend with stunned silence, his eyes hardly comprehending what they were seeing. 

He was perceiving now a side of Sam that he had never seen before, a sharp forceful anger that seemed to change his friend entirely. ` This` Frodo thought with sudden clarity as he stared at the molten depths of his friends hazel eyes ` was what he was like when Shelob took me.` And suddenly the idea of Sam killing the great spider single headedly was no longer stupid or even foolhardy. For this new Sam, this Sam id fire and pure un-adulterated will, could easily have taken on something twice Shelob's size without fear.

"Did you not ever think that I might be trying to protect you?" He enquired once he found his voice again.

"Protect us? PROTECT US? Do you think I'm naive? Do you think that I have not seen you falling apart in front of my eyes?

"Do you truly believe that you are protecting us by pushing us away?" 

"I do not know what I believed, but you have to understand, Sam, that I am a danger to everyone. Even myself. When the addition takes me hard I know that I would be more than willing to kill to see the Sea, if only once.

"I was afraid that I would hurt someone, that I might kill someone. It is a risk I am not willing to take."

"So now what? You continue to push us away until the gap between us is large enough so that you can cross the Sea without being stopped?"

"No. Arwen has bestowed to me another gift. One that might sedate my addiction for the Sea." He replied as he pulled the shell from his belt. Sam stared at the object for a moment, the fire in his eyes sated as he did. 

In the second before Sam gave his reply, Frodo was struck with a sense both of great relief and a flush of something else. Something oddly familiar to Frodo, yet new also. `I love him` he thought before Sam began to talk again.

"It's nothin` more than another cure all is it, Sir? Nothin` more than another quack remedy that you can use to convince yourself that everything's all right." He paused and the spark in his eyes broiled into an inferno. "If you feel that relyin` on false hope, that relyin` on false remedies  rather than on your friends then I believe, Frodo, that  we are done here." And with that he was upon his feet and gone in a blink of an eye. Frodo could only stare blindly after him, that one word cycling again and again through his mind.

Though he had often asked for Sam to drop the honorific from his name, the fact that he had done as such when Sam had been so angry with him, when there had been such venom to his voice. That such a familiarity had been used within argument was worse than any physical harm that Sam could have done him. 

Worse though was the fact that such a divide  between them has come at the exact point when he had realised the truth of his feelings for Sam. That one he loved so completely would hate him, tore at him in a way that nothin else could.

 Bringing the shell to his ear, he listened again to the rhythm of the Sea and forgot, just for a moment, everything but that rhythm. 

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T: Te he, he he.  I bet you hate me for this…Good! No I don't mean that, come back I want your lovely reviews!! I actually wanted to apologise for leaving it here especially since there is going to be an extended gap between this and chapter six owing to the replacement of chapter four.  

This angry Sam is brought to you in part by Tolkien's descriptions of Sam taking on Shelob and part due to Peter Jackson's commentary on the extended version of Fellowship (all the stuff right near the end about Sam's strength of will in case your wandering).  Also I suppose angry Sam is a product of how I feel about Frodo at the end of the books, believe you me I was very tempted to have Sam physically slap him here but I think the emotional slap works much better.

R+R or I kill Frodo. No only kidding…well maybe I'm 10% serious…okay 15%, god!


	6. Ice

                          Golden snowflakes.

                            Chapter six: Ice.

T: Yes I am fully aware that this is a week late. I was all set to have this and the new chapter 4 posted last Sunday (being that I was working Monday). Then I had an attack of Inspiration, which is a bit like the reverse of Writers block. Basically my head was so full of ideas for actual stories that the fan fic went on the back burner. Then I got the illustrated Tolkien Encyclopaedia for my Easter present and I've been lost to the real world since then. Back now however and thanks to Endymion I am full of evilness to subject all of my `addicts` to. Mwhahaha…sorry Endymion but the idea of having addicts was probably not the best one to give me when I was in a maniacal mood…but then again I'm always in a maniacal mood so you're really not to blame. 

Anyyyway…warnings are the same and the ANGST continues on a steady incline so be ready for a lot of new `angry Sam`. 

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Merry and Pippin road back into Minas Tirith as the pail light of dawn was fading from the sky. A guard was stood at the gate, the black and silver of his uniform shining in the half-light. He greeted the Hobbits with thanks for the new dawn that they and their kin had brought to his city and then bowing and taking the reigns of their mounts from their hands instructed them that the King had wish to see them.

Aragorn was evidently troubled as he welcomed the pair back and it was not long before his enquires after the heath of Faramir and Éowyn faded into silence.

"What has happened, Strider?" Merry enquired eventually. 

"From what I have been able to piece together from the limited information supplied to me the Plan has gone terribly awry."  

"How awry?" Merry enquired, suddenly fearful that the King would soon stand and take them to see the body of either his Cousin or his faithful Manservant. 

"I do not actually know. As I have said previously I have been left rather out of the Loop by your Cousin and of Master Samwise I have seen nothing since the evening meal yesterday."

"Then they are alive?" Merry enquired, the question both revealing and hopefully sullying the fear within his heart.

"Yes, of that I can assure you. 

"Then there is still hope of salvaging some good from this harm we have caused."

"Perhaps. Though we also stand to make things very much worse.

"I recommend that we halt this Plan before it ends as you feared it had ended today, Merry."

"We can not give up, Strider, at least not yet. To do as such is to kill them both anyway. If Merry and I can talk to them, understand what has happened here, then there is a hope we can mend things without further harm."

"Then talk to them if you truly think it shall be the better solution. If, however, you feel you are unable to solve things I ask that you do not attempt to try, for it shall make things very much worse."

"We will come back here, Strider, once we have talked to them. That way we might come up with a solution to the problem together."

"So be it, at least that way I can assure that any plan constructed has no risk of harming either of them."

*

He was aware, somewhere in the depths of his mind, that the deep rumble around him was words that were being spoken to him, but not comprehended. All he could comprehend at that moment was the sound of the Sea. The rhythm of Roar and then Hush blending together in a symphony of healing, promise.

He knew, deep in his subconscious, that he was addicted true fully now. Addicted to the Sea's song by the very thing bestowed to him as a hope of curing him. But even the irony of this fact was lost within the repetition of Rush and Hush, Rush and Hush.

The sound of skin hitting skin entered into the rhythm for a moment and then he became aware of a faint heat spreading along his face. He had been struck and now his name was being repeated to him in a voice that was edged in a steadily increasing panic. 

Reality was slowing bleeding in around him, taking away the rhythm of the Sea and replacing it with the sound of a much loved voice raised in hate and anger. And as he was swept into the current of Reality, he felt himself drowning in the truth of what had happened and he felt tears fall from his face. Their presence as alien to him in that moment as his own mind. 

*

After he and Merry had gone their separate ways, it had not taken Pippin very long to find Frodo; aware as he was of his Cousin's yearning and of the natural outlet it had while he was here within Minas Tirith. 

And he had found Frodo before the Great White tree just as he had expected to, yet as he had come to his Cousin's side he had perceived that although Frodo's body was present within this place his mind was elsewhere. 

He had attempted to bring Frodo back to reality gently, but when this had failed he had slapped his Cousin once, hard, across the face. The sound of his hand connecting with his Cousin's skin had been as a whip crack in the silence and as an angry red mark bloomed upon his pail face, Pippin felt a momentary wave of guilt that was washed away quickly as a faint spark of life came into Frodo's eyes.

"Frodo?" He enquired, repeating the name with an increasing amount of panic as no response was forth coming. He stopped as the tears came, however, and pulled his Cousin into an embrace, noting (as he always did when hugging Frodo) how brittle he seemed within his arms.

"Frodo?" He enquired again after a moment. He was rewarded with a soft reply of,

"Yes, Pip." Before Frodo freed him self from the embrace.

"Do you want to tell me what happened while Merry and I were gone?"

"What happened?" Frodo enquired and for a moment Pip truly believed that he had forgotten, wiping the memory from his mind so that he might continue on in blissful ignorance, retaining his reality of lies. Then realisation stole again upon his face and such grief filled his eyes that Pippin instantly both posing the question and starting the idiotic Plan to begin with.

"I have pushed him away, Pip." He replied eventually.

"How" He enquired. There was disbelief to the enquiry, `after all` Pippin had reasoned long ago `Sam would never leave Frodo. It was a core truth to Reality one that belonged with the likes of: `Plants need water to live` and `Tooks have a head for trouble. ` 

"He believes that I wish to leave Middle Earth, that I have been pretending that I wish to get better.

"I have pushed him away by relying on things such as this…" Here he gestured wildly to the stone just visible within the shadow of his shirt collar. "What is worse is that he is right, Pip. I have been relying on it and on the other Panacea that have been given to me as vain hopes to curb my yearning. Yet each has pushed me closer to full fledged addiction and now…"

"Now?"

"Now I have lost Sam, Pip, Sam" And Frodo broke again into tears.

"I can not believe it, Frodo. That Sam is upset with you I can understand, but that you have pushed him away forever…" Pippin trailed, having now wish to finish the sentence. 

Frodo dropped a shaking hand to the left hand pocket of his trousers and pulled free a small scrap of carefully folded paper .He passed it wordlessly to Pippin and then turned his head away as Pippin folded the scrap open. Each word was shaped in the angular form of Sam's hand, each letter baring similarities to Bilbo's hand that showed clearly where the gardener had learned his letters. The note read simply:

`Frodo,

           Both my father and myself have worked hard, with both sweat and heart for both yourself and Mr Bilbo.

            Recent events, however, mean that I now feel that it is in the best interests of us both for me to terminate this arrangement.

As such I now send you this as a notice of my resignation so that you might find a replacement to fill the vacancy that my departure shall leave.

                                               Samwise Gamgee. `

*

"You what?" Merry enquired, hoping vainly that the reply would be something other than the response that had prompted the question. Sam leaned back in his chair and his eyes fixing to the window that stood near him he replied,

"I quit."

"Why?" Merry prompted.

"Because I can't be around him anymore, Mr Merry. Not without fear of hitting him, anyway."

"Why on earth would you hit him, Sam?

"I don't know if I can explain, Mr Merry."

"Would you care to try?"

"My palms itch when I see him now, Sir. He took away my trust you see. Stole my very faith in him…in everythin`, and abused it. 

"As far as I'm concerned, Sir, he's not Frodo any longer. Or at least he's not my Mr. Frodo. To me he's now somethin` very much akin to Gollum." He said. Merry was unnerved by the statement, not so much because it was Sam making it (though that in its self was enough to unbalance him) but rather because he found he was unable to object to it. For he too knew that somewhere, something about his Cousin had changed enough to unsettle even Sam, but would he go so far as to state that Frodo was now more Gollum than himself? Merry found, much to his horror, that although he could not say defiantly `yes` to the question he could not say defiantly `no` either.

*

"…It is hopeless." Frodo concluded.

"Nothing is ever hopeless, Frodo, you taught me that when I was younger. Do you remember?" Pip enquired.

"Yes, but only very faintly, as if I am viewing the memory through misted glass."

"Those words have stayed with me, Frodo. There were there as I watched Denethor go slowly mad, they gave me hope, even then. Perhaps it would do you well to recall those words now so that they might give you hope also."

"What hope I had left has gone, Pip. For I placed all that I had left into the hope that I might gain a reward for my part in the Quest through viewing Sam's contentment. To see him happy was all that I wished for…all that I still wish for."

"Then you should not let go of your hope, Frodo. For if you can not mend an ill in a friendship that means so much to you…a friendship that has saved Middle Earth its self, then what hope can I have?" He enquired, pausing a moment to see if his words had any impact upon his Cousin before he continued with, "You see, Frodo, I have a secret. That much you know already. What you are yet ignorant to is what the secret is."

"You do not have to tell me, Pip. Not like this…"

"I want to, Frodo, I need to…

"You see I am very much in love. With Diamond of Long Cleeve, no less."

"Diamond?"

"Yes and though I know that she is very far beyond the likes of me, Frodo. I am still hoping that if I court her properly and ignore any advice that Merry should give me, I may yet be the Hobbit to wed her."

"I have no doubt that you shall be, Pip. Yet I do not see the parallel"

"For the very reason that I have already given, Frodo, if you have no hope in mending things with Sam, then suddenly the idea that Diamond will love me is an impossible one."

"I believe that you are placing too much faith in my friendship with Sam, Pip."

"No. No, I am not. He crossed Middle Earth for you, Frodo. Killed a Giant Spider and carried you when you could no longer walk.

"You would have gladly died within the Cracks of Doom if it would of assured Sam's happiness. If friendship such as that is not true, unbreakable, friendship, then I shall never know what is."

*

"I can not believe that you would just give up on Frodo like that, Sam."

"I didn't give up, Sir, he pushed me away.

"You see I was thinking on how I could bring him back to himself. Contemplatin` on what song I knew that'd drown the Sea from his heart.

"T'wasn't an easy thing, Sir, not by a long shot. I'm nothin` more than a gardener when you get right down to it and though mayhap on occasions I've done something vaguely Elfish, I'm still nothing compared to them. 

"And so I looked at the problem practically; Mr. Frodo, or at least my Mr. Frodo was hidden somewhere beneath the yearnings crowding out of his heart. Mayhap in time those yearning would fade all by themselves, but it was more likely that they'd increase until nothin` was left of him but want.

"All that you know, Sir and it were as far as I'd thought up to before Frodo came to talk to me."

"And what? You decided that quitting was the best option?"

"Yes…no. It's still very hard to understand, even for myself, Sir. I wished to know if he knew that all his wanting was pushing him away from us and so I asked…

"That's when I lost it, Sir. He knew that he was hurting us, but he thought that he was doing it to help us.

"It made me so very angry, but I still wouldn't of quit if he'd just let me help, Sir. Instead he showed me yet another object that he was going to use to replace any help I could of given him.

"He doesn't wish me around, Sir, that much he has made clear. I've simply given him exactly what he'd wished for."

"No. No, you did not. You have given up, Sam; you know that as well as I do. Yes, Frodo may very well have pushed you away, but he never true fully wanted you gone."

"You should know how much he values your friendship, your help…"

"Once, maybe, Sir, but no longer. You say that I am giving in and perhaps that is true, but what does it matter, truly? He'll cross over no matter what I try and mayhap it's for the best." And there was such dejection in his voice that Merry knew, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that Sam had truly given in.

*

"We should stop." Merry said. Aragorn nodded his agreement but Pippin shook his head,

"Are you mad? Frodo's very close to doing something Very stupid."

"And though it scares me senseless to say it, Pip, Sam has given in."

"I will not believe it, Merry. He is just scared of loosing Frodo, we all are."

"It is not that, Pip, not at all. He is angry and he is betrayed, but he is not scared, not one little bit. If Frodo sees him like that it is only going to push him further away."

"We have to risk it, Merry. Without Sam Frodo will cross over the Sea, and whatever he thinks to the contrary, Sam shall be lost without him.

"They need to talk this though, you have to see that."

"All I can see is how much more hurt they can do to one another, Pip. I think that we are past the point where they will be able to be civil to one another."

"I am inclined to agree with Merry, Pippin, as from what he has said it seems to me at least that Sam has no more wish to be Frodo's doormat."

"He is not a doormat, Strider."

"No? I listened to him as he talked, Pip and even I can see that Frodo has been taking him for granted. I mean Sam has done everything for Frodo, placed every inch of his trust in him and Frodo repays him by placing his faith in a stone."

"Sam is all Frodo has left, Merry, he wanted to see him settled, happy and now he has broken him. Yes, maybe it would have been better for Frodo to see if we could help him with his desire for the Sea, first, but everyone has once fault.

"I have to believe that they can patch this up, Merry, I just have to." And there was something in his Cousin's eyes then that stayed any rebuttal Merry may have had. Instead he looked to Aragorn and enquired,

"I am most probably going to regret this, but Pip has a point. We all looked to Frodo and Sam's friendship in times of hardship. If it fails then what hope do we have for the future?" Aragorn considered this for a moment and then he sighed,

"Then we must continue down this path, though I fear what we shall discover at its end."

*

Sam's eyes flicked once behind him and took in the stern resolve in Merry's eyes. There would be no breaking the strength behind that resolve, he knew, and so he allowed his eyes to come and rest again upon his one time Master.

Frodo looked almost transparent and Sam had to fight the urge to bring him into his arms and protect him from the world. That life, that impulse, was in the past now and though he knew it would not be easy to forget his friendship, he knew that it was either that or be torn completely in two when Frodo left.

Yet there was a part of himself, a small traitorous part, that was still clinging onto the hope that Frodo would stay. That, somehow, this time, the faith he had placed in his friends integrity would not turn out to be misguided. 

"I do not want to lose your friendship, Sam, not over something so stupid."

"It's not stupid, Si…Frodo, it's a serious argument. That you don't recognise that fact only helps show me how little I know you."

"Sam." Frodo paused and seemed to consider his words for a moment." You must forgive me for pushing you…everyone…away, but I truly did think I was doing you good. If I had hurt you…I could never have forgiven myself.

"You must also forgive me for not placing more faith in your…in everyone's…ability to ease me through my want.

"I wish nothing more than to put this behind us, Sam. To gain back a little normality."

"Yet we can't go back to a normality, Frodo, the lies have been revealed and the trust has faded between us. I also wish that we could go back to the way that we were, but everythin` has changed and you know better than any of the rest of us that there is no going back. Not true fully at least."

"Then what of our friendship?"

"Was it even truly a friendship, Frodo? You were my superior, you still are, truth be told, and though we treated one another as equally as we could, it was always there between us."

"But what of the Quest? Of everything before that as well?"

"I believe that we were brought together through extreme circumstances, that and my sense of duty kept us together. It was a companionship, yes, but was it ever truly friendship?" Sam enquired, the manner in which he posed the question suggesting that he was asking himself as much as Frodo.

Silence drifted around the group, none quite believing that Sam had said such a thing. And then Frodo, the colour drained completely from his face, took a step towards Sam, his eyes blazing.

"How dare you ask such a question? Was it a true friendship? We grew up together, Sam, we protected one another. Without you Lotho would have beaten me black and blue on my 30th birthday, if you had not come to my rescue…and you were not even a tweenager."

"Yes I protected you, Frodo and you in turn convinced Bilbo to tech me reading` and writin`. But was it friendship? Seems to me that we created an arrangement that was mutually beneficial to the both of us."

"Perhaps at the very beginning that was it was, but as time passed…"

"As time passed we fell into a rut and we named it `friendship` because that was more pleasing to the ear. Now, however I call it by its true name, which is convenience."

"Sam." There was desperation to Frodo's voice now and tears were racing one another down his face. Again Sam, fought the urge to reach out and protect him, to do as such was to curse them both to pain and misery. Despite this fact though a part of him, somewhere beneath the anger that was fuelling his words and his actions in this moment, was hoping that something would be said, either by himself or Frodo, that would mend the rift stretching between them.

That hope was swiftly dashed, however, when Frodo took in a deep shaking breath and said,

"If that is truly how you feel, Sam, then I too agree that we would do better apart." Then he turned and began to walk away. 

Sam watched for a moment, still hoping, however vainly, that Frodo would turn and apologise. Once there was no chance of that hope being fulfilled, he too turned and his heart heavy, left.

*

"What if he was right?" Frodo enquired. Both Merry and Pippin looked to one another for a moment and then assured that they both felt the same way leaned a little towards their Cousin.

"He was not, Frodo."

"I agree with Pip, Frodo. He was angry and I do not believe that he was taking any consideration to his words."

"No, he knew exactly what it was that he was saying. I have taken the trust from our friendship and as such he doubts if there was any trust there to begin with." Frodo considered this for a moment, his mind stretching back into the fogged depths of his past. 

Sam had been an element in his life for as long as he could recall, life before Sam barley existed for him now apart from the one burning memory of his parent's death. He had hardly spoken after their deaths, Bilbo had told him when the grief had faded into a dull pain in his heart. Esmeralda and Saradoc had assured everyone that it was part of the grieving process and that when he was comfortable he would talk and cry like a normal lad. 

But he had not talked and he had not cried, indeed by the time he was twenty and Bilbo had come to take him to Bag End the memory of his parents was lost to him and then he had met Sam…

He recalled that he had woken early, coated in sweat and his mind full of the image of murky brown water and so when Bilbo had appeared in the living room an hour later and suggested a tour of the Shire streams and ponds he had refused vehemently, stating simply that he never wished to be near water again.  Bilbo had chuckled at that and suggested that they spend a day in the garden instead. To that he had agreed heartily as the gardens of Bag End were still new enough to him at that time to hold the potential for adventure. 

He had been examining the fine deep lilac edging on the small patch of daisies when the Gaffer's feet had come into his field of vision,

"Ah you'd be Mr. Bilbo's new ward then. Let me see ye then lad." He had prompted. There was an edge to that voice that had quelled any thought of disobedience and Frodo had turned and lifted his head so that he might better see his companion. There was something about the way that the Gaffer examined him, the unabashed intensity of his stare despite his station (which had been evident by both the cut of his clothing and the patches of obvious repair on the elbows and the knees) that had reminded him of his Uncle Rorimac and had thus assured that he was fond of the man right from the fore. "Ye've got more of Tookish look to ye than I'd care for but ye eyes tell me that you've been nothin but a good lad." He had said eventually.

"Who are you, Sir?" Frodo had enquired. The Gaffer had chuckled at that and his laughter had brought a faint smile to his lips.

"I'm no `Sir` lad, I'm the one who's been giving life to all ye see around you."

"Then did you grow the daisies I was just admiring?"

"I'm afraid not, lad, that was me youngest. Got the head and the heart for creating things such as that."

"Do you think I might meet him?"

"I don't see why not, lad. He's with Mr. Bilbo at the moment." 

Bilbo was crouched beneath his windowsill as Frodo and the Gaffer appeared around the corner. He turned slightly as they came close enough for him to hear their footsteps, revealing both the small patch of forget-me-nots and the young Hobbit lad tending them.

"Ah, Hamfast, I see you have found Frodo." Bilbo said, his words drawing the attention of the Hobbit lad before him. Frodo recalled that the lad's hazel eyes had widened slightly and the faint traceries of a blush had bloomed upon his face.

"Aye, Sir." The Gaffer replied as he bent to take his flustered son up into his arms. The child had lent slightly into his father and whispered an enquiry that had set the Gaffer chuckling again.

"Nay, Samwise, 'tis not an elf but a Hobbit just like ye." The gaffer had replied.

Despite his father's insistence, Sam believed Frodo was an elf for a week after that and so would do nothing more than blush or stare whenever Frodo attempted to talk to him. Eventually that shyness had faded and the lads had talked of nothing but gardening and grand adventures until Sam had made the easy mistake of assuming that Bilbo was his father. Frodo had explained the situation with great care, having no wish to aggrieve or confuse his newfound friend. And Sam had responded with such a calm understand for one so young that the tears and the grief had finally spilled from Frodo.

And from that moment onwards Sam had been there protecting him, helping him and healing him. That he loved Sam for that devotion and for himself also Frodo could not deny now, but had he always loved him as he did now? It was a question he himself could not answer himself, yet to ask his Cousins would be revealing to them his heart and if they did not already know who he loved it put risk on the revelation. Risk that they might not understand, risk that they might hate him or worse turn their hate towards Sam. Yet he knew it was a risk he had to take, their answer to the question would either confirm or subdue the suspicion building slowly in his heart.

"Pip, Merry, might I ask you something?"

"Of course, Frodo."

"Of course."

"If I told you that I loved Sam, truly loved him I mean, would it be a surprise to you?" Both shook their heads and then Merry enquired,

"Do you love him then, Frodo? True fully?"

"Yes."

"When did you realise?" Pip enquired, the way that he posed the question making it evident that he had indeed know of Frodo's heart before Frodo himself had.

"I realised as we fought the first time, but that does not matter now. What does matter is how long you have know that I care for him?"

"We have always know, Frodo. From the very moment you talked to us of him we saw love in your eyes."

"And though we were too young then to call it love we understood." Pip said, his words bringing confirmation to Frodo's suspicion. 

He had loved Sam from the moment he had met him, indeed there was a suspicion in his mind that part of him had been waiting to see Sam so that he might love him. That in some way he had been destined always to love Sam and if that was the truth then he had desired Sam long before the Ring had come into his thoughts and before the Sea had first began to tempt him. That desire was already beginning to drown out the Sea, its tune older than the stars themselves.

"I have been so blind, Merry, Pip." Frodo said after a moment.

"How?" Merry enquired.

"Tom told me that there were two ways in which the song of the Ring would be removed from my heart forever. I could cross the Sea, replace one yearning with another or…at the time he would not tell me of my second choice. Aragorn believed that this was because I had to see what the other choice was myself else it would fade away.

"Arwen told me that I knew what the other choice was, but that I did not wish to acknowledge it. I see now that that was the truth, that the lies I had been telling myself about my feelings for Sam had blocked off the knowledge. I have always loved Sam, that much you know. My yearning for Sam is older; therefore, stronger, than my yearning for the Sea and the Ring and as such it can drown them both from my heart. My other choice is to love Sam, in other words."

"Then you have to mend the rift between you, Frodo."

"Yes, you are right, Merry. If I loose him then I truly will have no other choice than to cross the Sea."

*

Frodo tapped again upon Sam's door and when there was again no response he pushed open the door and walked into the small chamber. Any evidence that the room had indeed been occupied was gone apart from a small scrap of paper that sat upon Sam's desk. He settled into the chair and taking up the note began to read:

`Frodo,

            As we are both agreed that we should spend sometime apart and as I have done all that I might to bring the gardens here to life I am going to return to the Shire. From there I do not know what I shall do, but it is more than likely that I shall leave in order to find myself a new position. 

            I ask that you might forgive all I said about our previous friendship, for it was once true and strong. Yet it can never return back to what it once was…

           Please tell Master Merry that I appreciate him help and Master Pippin that he often made me smile in harder times.

                                    Sam.`  

Frodo placed the letter carefully into his pocket and after a moment of quiet contemplation pulled a scrap of paper out of the desk draw and taking up the quill began to write.

`Master Hamfast,

                           You have been one of my greatest friends in times of trouble and I am assured that you shall be now as you always have, the one voice of reason in a turbulent world.

                            I should have no need to tell you of how much your Son has ment to me and how much he still means to me. However, it is more than likely that Sam will arrive there before this note and so as such you may be sceptical as to whether there is truth in those statements. Let me assure you that there is nothing but and that the agitation between Sam and I is caused merely by a misunderstanding. 

                            He will tell you that he is going to look for other employment and I ask simply that you either turn his mind from that course or tell all that might employ him that he is still in my employ and that he is merely asking after placements as proof to me that others need him as much as I. 

                            I wish simply for him to still be in the Shire when I return so that I might let him know my mind and my heart. And so I ask you to keep him close to you but not to force him to stay should he somehow find employment away from the Shire. I ask also that you do not dissuade him from wedding Rose on my part, for if he truly wishes to wed her then I will not stop him. 

                                                 Yours sincerely.

                                                  Frodo Baggins. `

Once he had finished the note he folded it once, placed it into an envelope and scrawled Sam's address onto the front. He hoped that the Gaffer would be able to keep Sam within the Shire, yet he knew that he had ment what he had said within the note about not wishing Sam to be forced to stay. 

He knew also that he was being sincere when he bid the Gaffer not stop Sam from wedding Rose if it was what he wished for. Yet there he was fearful also, for if Sam truly did wish to wed Rose then there was no chance of him returning Frodo's feelings.

That he did not feel the same way, had not yet been considered by Frodo, but now as he sat within what had until recently been Sam's room, it was all that he could think of.

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 T: Only one chapter left now and then that's it I'm afraid folks. So I'd like to take this rant space to thank you all for reading and to assure you that I shall be continuing to write LOTR slash and that I already have a `humour` fic bubbling away in my head.

R+R and I'll sell you Aragorn's soul.


	7. Golden Snowflakes

                                      Golden Snowflakes.

                          Chapter seven: Golden Snowflakes.

T: Ah the last chapter…actually I feel rather sad about this. Meh, I'll be posting again before you can say, "damn that was good!" Anyway, as I really do not wish to put anything here that will spoil what is going to happen in this chapter, I thought I'd give thanks to Pixie, the girl who left, Luthien and ForceMuette for reviewing and being so very nice to me. Extra special thanks to Endymion who has been responsible for the change in chapter 4 and for keeping me going, also I have been prompted by Endmion's last review to search out a beta reader for this particular fic so if you see up dates after this one it's the grammar being added.  Also Endymion I am was very surprised to learn that English is not your first language, especially given the secure grasp you seem to have of it…kudos! 

 This chapter gave me hell, mostly because I never set myself a personal time limit (e.g. I'll have it finished by next wed) and because I had kind of dug myself into a whole with chapter 6… then I bought myself the TT sound track (finally) and between the inspirational music (Track 18 especially) and the cover I had chosen (both Frodo and Sam staring out at the camera…Sam looking wonderfully determined I may add!) I eventually found my way out again and here we are. I apologise in advance if I repeat myself a little, but you must recall that I am typing this from a version written away from all my other notes and so with my goldfish memory I was never quite sure what I had covered and what I had not!

 Warnings the same, still not mine…pooh!

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The Gaffer stared hard at the small stretch of kitchen visible through his kitchen window. He was dwelling upon his son and all that seemed to of happened since he had returned alone from his trip.

That in itself had caused suspicion and when careful questioning had yielded a reply of, "Frodo's staying a few extra days." He had really begun to worry. For, ever since his son had known Frodo he had placed a `Mr.` honorific at the front of his name and so for him to drop that honorific, even when Frodo was not present, was the greatest of insults that Sam could devise. Yet he had shown no signs of either grief or agitation that might be expected from a fight with his best friend and the Gaffer had been entirely perplexed as to what the matter could be.

Four hours after his return Sam had vanished again with the short explanation of "off to see Rose, dad" and had left the Gaffer to ponder what on earth could be wrong. Thankfully not long after Sam's departure Frodo's note had arrived and though he had no comprehension of anything other than the fact that it was addressed to him, being practically illiterate as he was, he had however recognised the soft curls of Frodo's hand and had sought out his daughter May to read him the note, so that he could clear the mystery as quickly as possible. 

And now an hour later he was assured of only one thing; his ninnyhammer of a son had over reacted to something (had it not been for the wording of the note) he would have readily called a lovers tiff. What to do? That was his problem now. Of course he could do as Frodo had asked, find some way to keep Sam within Hobbiton long enough so that Frodo might talk to him. He was torn as to whether he should follow the other two instructions posed, torn between the loyalty to his old mater and his need to protect his son. 

If he gave consent for Sam to wed Rose, he knew that any hope Frodo would have of his son returning his feelings was lost. If he allowed Sam to leave Hobbiton, he knew that would be the end of everything, for Frodo would not chase and Sam would not return.

"What to do?" he enquired to himself. He had little time to contemplate an answer, however, for a knock on the door admitted Rose, her curls in disarray and her skin flushed. 

"We need to talk." She said as she stepped across the threshold.

*

As was often the way, his feet had taken over the direction in which he was walking, so that his mind might concentrate on other more pressing problems.  And so when his mind had finally focused again and he had found himself at the gate of Bag End, it took a moment for him to register the fact.

"One last look can't harm me." He said to himself after a moment. Delving into his trouser pocket he pulled free the spare key to the Smaile, pushed open the gate and made his way up the path. 

The ground in scent of pipe weed and Mr. Bilbo's aftershave hit him as soon as he opened the door and a thought came to him suddenly that this would be the very last time that he would breath in this smell. While contemplating this fact his feet lead him to the left of the entrance hall, lingering long enough in both the living room and the kitchen so that his mind might bubble forth small memories of happier times, long ago lost to darkness. 

His feet then lead him back out into the hallway and to his right again, stopping entirely this time as he came to the door of Frodo's study. He hesitated for a moment, some core part of him still insisting that it was not his place to tread within the Master's study.  But Frodo wasn't his master any more, was he? He'd seen to that right enough with his stupid, thoughtless words.

He started forwards again, his mind now in perfect control of the direction that he was heading. Pushing the study door open he walked across the threshold and was hit suddenly with Frodo's scent; all spice, and a little tinge of acidic pipe weed that made it familiar, homely. The smell was comfort in itself, yet held a torture of sorts now also, for Sam would never be comforted by it again, never assured by its closeness, its familiarity. Another feeling was woken by the scent, one that Sam in his current torrential state of grief and confusion, could not yet name. But it lingered there within his heart as a burning thing, awaking a half formed memory that teased at his mind. Again his feet ceased control, his mind momentarily concentrated on recalling the memory in all its clarity.  

He came to rest eventually in front of Frodo's desk and his eyes lifted for a moment to take in the view of the garden from the window.  He could smell the lavender that stood just outside the window, even in the morning still. All that lay beyond that window had once been his, each plant, each flower, tainted with memories and emotions and now another would come into his territory and make it their own. All that was his would be lost… Again the memory stirred in his mind, stronger now yet still not completely formed. He forced it from his mind for the moment and dropped his eyes again to the desk, scanning each document that still lay strewn upon its surface until they came to rest upon a thick red leather bound book.  He knew what the books was, knew that Frodo had already began to place their adventure into its pages and that knowledge made it a temptation to him, one that he was not of the mind to refuse. 

A shaking hand stretched over and pushed the book open, turning pages until he came upon a page almost entirely blank.  At the top of the page was a title, sprawled in Frodo's hand and reading simply, `Cirith Ungol. `  Sam stared at the heading for a moment, hardly believing that Frodo had stopped just at the very point where his thoughts, his view, on all that had occurred was greatly desired.  Yet the page remained tauntingly blank and Sam carefully closed the book again, assuring that he left it as it had been when he came upon it. 

He went next through the left hand door into Frodo's bedroom, pausing regularly now for the memories brought to him by each piece of furniture and every inch of carpet. Tears were forming at the corners of his eyes now, but he pushed them away without a second thought, his mind being bent now as it was upon an as yet unknown task. He was searching for something, that much he knew, but what? He recalled the hope that had swelled in his heart as he had discovered the Red Book and he knew instantly that he sought something akin to a diary. He was searching for proof to discount the words that he had said while within Minas Tirith, proof that there had indeed been a true friendship between Frodo and himself. 

That Frodo was a Hobbit who tended to write things down, was something Sam had learned while at a very young age, when he had witness the young Baggins produce a small notebook from his waistcoat one evening and begin to write. There was a passion that Frodo found while writing, an intense liberation, that he had confided in Sam, was lost to him in every day life. It was a source of vast confusion to Sam, therefore, that he found no sign of anything even vaguely resembling a diary. For would it not have benefited Frodo to submit all of his thoughts to paper and thus bringing an order to the chaos?

Belatedly, Sam recalled that Frodo had also told him that he felt emotions, true personal emotions, were not something to be written down. " For even the Elvin language can do the language of the heart any justice, Sam." He had said, an odd half smile upon his lips. His task fruitless, therefore, Sam sat down on the bed and allowed the thoughts flitting through his mind to crystallise. `All this…` He finally thought, `you have lost all of this to your hardheaded stupidity.

`It is all well and good stating that you are to move on, but where shall you go? Buckland Masters look for a servant who can swim and ye know well that ye cannot swim even when everything depends on it.

`Tuckborough Masters would walk all over ye in a matter of moments, ye being soft of heart and they being mischievous little things when they wish to.  

`Ye other option is to gibe up gardening all together, learn a new trade such as roping or perhaps ye could be a carpenter, earn some real money and become a gentle Hobbit ye self. But that is a foolish idea, Samwise Gamgee, and ye know it. The last time ye tried roping ye Gaffer laughed so hard that he was useless for anything else for the rest of the day. As for making a trade out of wood…

`Ye are a gardener and ye shall always be a gardener, for the soil calls to you in a way similar as to how the Sea calls Frodo. Ye cannot be a gentle Hobbit and a gardener, unless…` And for a moment he truly considered the idea. To be able to make a true living doing the one thing he loved and the one thing he could do so very well. He was prevented from actually beginning to turn the dream into a reality by the sudden incursion of the memory, now fully recalled and thrust to the fore of his mind.  He recalled now that he had been nothing more than a young Hobbit at the time of the memory, a factor that probably helped the ease of its irradiation once his initial shame had faded.

He was sat in the Party field, listening idly to the chatter of the young Hobbit lasses sat around him in a lazy circle. One, slightly older than the rest of the group, had turned the conversation towards the topic of marriage and was stating proudly,

"I intend to marry Mr Frodo Baggins. He is smart, good looking and he will inherit all of Bilbo's money." And Sam had given her a sharp look and said,

"Ye can't marry Mr. Frodo. He's mine." And that would most probably have been it if Ted Sandyman had not been present to hear the little declaration. 

"Yours is he, Samwise?" He had enquired, "And why do you think that?"

"Because the Gaffer told me so."

"He ment that he was yours to serve, not that you were to be his lover. He is a Baggins after all, what would he want with the likes of you when he could have anyone he wanted?" And that had been it, for Sam had blushed crimson at that, for the shame of reaching beyond himself and the lasses had giggled at him and the whole thing had quickly been pushed behind him to be forgotten.  

Why was it that the memory had chosen this point in time to be recalled? He had been nothing more than a lad with a belief in his head that had been terribly wrong. He took a deep breath of the air around him, thick with Frodo's scent and the lingering traceries of lavender and tried to shake the fog from his mind. 

Frodo…all of this was to do with Frodo, that much he could see clearly. All of the confusion, the anger, the hate and the indefinable emotion still burning away within him could be linked so easily with Frodo. Yet Frodo was his past now, wasn't he? Ted had been right about that much at least, what would a Baggins need from him? Yes, it was best that he left, started again, perhaps in Crickhollow where he heard the Hobbits were supposed to treat gardeners like kings.

Yes, he had to leave. It was the only way that he could escape this confusion broiling away within him.

*

"…So I came here as quickly as I could." Rose concluded. The Gaffer pulled his pipe from his mouth and said,

"Ye were right to, for its set me mind to rest about one thing at least."

"Aye, but that he doesn't wish to wed me any longer doesn't necessarily mean that he knows or even understands what he does wish for."

"I'm sure that Frodo will see to it that he does understand."

"If we can keep Sam here long enough that is,"

"Aye and its there that I've still got difficulty. Frodo asked me not to force him to stay, but short of destroying the garden to keep him busy, I can't think of what to do." The gaffer said. They were quiet for a moment, both considering the options available to them with such restrictions in place. Any idea of disobeying the instructions given to them by Frodo was erased immediately from their minds, such an action being viewed as it was, as a sin on par with murder. 

"I think I may have something." Rose said eventually.

"Well whatever it is Rose, it's more than I've thought of and so I'll give ye whatever support ye need to carry it out." The Gaffer stated. Rose smiled and was about to thank the elderly Hobbit for his kind words, when the sound of the front door being opened stopped her before she could bring voice to the words.

"Is that ye, Samwise?"

"Aye." Came back the reply and then a moment later "Where are ye?"

"I'm in the kitchen having a nice chat to Miss Rose, who kindly came to give her company to an old Hobbit who can't get out much." The Gaffer replied, the lie spilling easily from his tongue.  There was a muffled silence for a moment and then Sam appeared at the doorway of the kitchen, an intense agitation lodged within his eyes. 

"I wish a word with ye if I may and ye also Miss Rose, so ye've no need to leave." He said as he came to join the pair. 

"Some things have been said between Frodo and I that have lead me to hand in my notice.

"I've been giving some thought as to what it is that I shall do next and I've decided that its best that I leave Hobbiton. Now I won't go far, havin' no wish to be separated from me family and me friends. I thought, perhaps, that I could go to Overhill or Crickhollow at the worse. 

"I know that ye are both fond of Frodo in ye ways and so I shall not ask ye to pretend to hate him in my presence, for though our friendship is at an end I still wish him no harm." He said. The Gaffer looked to Rose for a moment, then raised his pipe again to his lips, taking a few drags of the smoke before he enquired,

"And what do ye intend to do in Overhill or Crickhollow at the worst?"

"I thought I might garden."

"Ha! In Crickhollow ye'd be lucky to garden anthin' other than lilies and other plants suited for a wet environment. As for as Overhill…I tilled a good deal of soil there before I came to work for Mr. Bilbo and I can assure ye that its so solid that it'd kill the plants ye are used to growing."

"Then I shall have to get used to growin' new plants. `A true gardener always does the best with what he's given, ` is what ye told me once, dad, or have ye forgotten that lesson?"

"No son, 'twas good solid reasoning and I'm assured that ye'd bring life to whatever ye attempted to grow, it is just…" He trailed, unsure of how to continue without revealing both the note and his prior knowledge of the situation. 

Rose came quickly to the rescue by putting the plan that had formulated within her head, swiftly into motion. 

"We wish ye to stay long enough to watch your Mallorn bloom, Sam. 'Twould be a shame if ye left before ye had chance to see how beautiful it was." And at those words the anguish faded from Sam's eyes and he smiled,

"Aye, 'twould be at that. I shall stay long enough to see the Mallorn bloom. It'll give me some time, at least, to find myself me knew job." And then with a gentle good evening to both Rose and his father Sam left the room.

"How long do ye think it'll be before the Mallorn blooms?" Rose enquired after a moment.

"A week at the most."

"Will that be long enough do ye think?"

"I hope so Rose, I truly do."

*

"…Making things needlessly complicated. All you need do is kiss him." Merry concluded. Frodo glanced over his shoulder so that he might look into his Cousin's eyes.

"I am sure that would go down wonderfully with Sam, Merry. Especially if he does not return my feelings." Frodo replied. Merry pulled his reigns hard, bringing his horse to a quick stop before he enquired,

"Are you serious?"

"Very and you need not sound so shocked, it is a possibility after all."

"Yes and so is death by wolf attack, yet I do not see you afraid of stepping out of your door."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Frodo enquired, as he too pulled his horse to a stop.

"It means that we are both very sceptical of the idea that Sam feels nothing for you in return, Frodo." Pippin stated as he drew level with his Cousins. 

"You heard what he said in Minas Tirith and you have both seen him with Rose…"

"Yes, but we have seen him around you as well, Frodo. At times when he thought none were watching." 

"Yet all that you believed that you have seen could be nothing more than the burning resolve that makes him Sam. I can risk nothing in this endeavour to claim him back, for to loose him…" He shivered slightly at the thought and spurred his horse onwards again.

"I know what it is that you risk, Frodo, but can you truly return to being his friend now that you know the truth?" Merry enquired, as he and Pippin also tapped their horses into movement. 

"If I must, yes."

"But then you would be building your friendship on a lie, just as Sam accused you of doing at the very beginning. When the truth came out, as it would in the end, he would hate you for it and then there would truly be no hope of him returning your feelings.

"You must tell him, if only so that you cause no more distance between you." Merry said.

"There will be a distance between us no matter what I do, Merry."

"Perhaps. But would you not rather that it was there because you had told him the truth and not because you had lied?"

"You may have a point, Merry. And yet I fear it shall be null by the time we reach Hobbiton, for Sam will already be long gone." 

"I think you may still be surprised as far that is concerned, for the Gaffer is a resourceful Hobbit when he wishes to be and if Rose helps then there shall be no limit to what might be achieved." Pip said.

"Perhaps. Let us not assume things before we get back," Frodo said, the tone of his voice suggesting that that was the end of the conversation.

Merry glanced over to Pippin and tipped his head slightly back to indicate that he wished a moment with his Cousin. Pippin nodded and the pair dropped their speed enough so that they fell far enough behind their Cousin so as to be out of earshot.

"What do you think?" Pip enquired after a moment. 

"I still believe that Sam ment what he said at Minas Tirith."

"Frodo said that he apologised."

"Yes…"

"You do not think that it was a true apology?"

"I do not know, Pip. I do not wish to doubt the truth of their friendship, but…"

"Yes, I know what you mean. There was something far to sensible in Sam's voice for the argument to have come completely from anger."

"Yet as he spoke the words there was both belief and doubt in his voice."

"Both were there in his eyes also. But I wonder if there was enough doubt inside of him to destroy that belief."

"We shall see once they have talked to one another again."

"Do you think Frodo may be right about his not caring?" Pip enquired after a moment.

"I do not know, Pip. He is right that so much of Sam's affection could be attributed to of his sense of dedication."

"Yes, but what of the emotion we perceived within his eyes while we were within Rivendale for the first time. Can that be attributed to his dedication?"

"Maybe, yes. I would say willingly that he loved him, Pip, if I truly believed that he did, but I feel that there are far too many lies and restrictions between them now to stay defiantly."

"But you are hopeful?"

"Perhaps. Let us do as Frodo says and wait and see what happens when we reach Hobbiton." 

"Agreed."

*

It was the morn of April the 5th 1420 (by Shire reckoning) when Frodo Baggins returned again to Hobbiton. 

Upon his return, Frodo was met with a borage of questions, each following a very similar line of enquiry.

The first had come in the form of Daddy Twofoot, who was walking down the Row as the three friends road in. 

"Ah Master Baggins, the Gaffer said you'd been away these last few days."

"How can I help you Master Twofoot?" Frodo had enquired, leaning down a little so that he might listen to the elderly Hobbits response.

"I wished to tell ye that I think ye are making a mistake letting young Sam out of your employ. I won't be the last to tell ye that either, for the Gaffer informed me when I went to see him yesterday that several others had already come to him to express such an opinion. " And with that the elderly Hobbit was gone again.

It was approximately an hour after that when a knock on the door of Bag End had admitted Tom Cotton, who had indeed come to tell Frodo that letting Sam go, especially since the argument that had brought around the situation was evidently nothing more than a lovers tiff.

Two hours later Frodo was sat in his living room, his head in his hands and a blush evident upon the areas of his face still exposed. Merry and Pippin were sat to either side of him, both attempting and failing miserably to comfort their Cousin.

"It could be worse, Frodo." Merry attempted again.

"How? The whole Shire knew that I was in love with Sam long before I did."

"Not all of the Shire," Pippin said.

"No? Just all of Hobbiton instead then?"

"You were his friend, Frodo and you could not see him as anything other than that.  You lied to yourself about your feelings for him so that things could remain that way," Merry said. Frodo raised his head from his hands for a moment, then dropped it as another knock came upon the door.

"I will go shall I?" Pip enquired.

 "Yes, thank you Pippin. Tell whoever it is that I am sick or whatever it will take for them to leave me alone, for I have not the strength to face any more of their sympathy or judgements." Frodo said. Pippin left the pair and answered the door as instructed. There was the faint rumble of hushed talking and then Pip's voice raised in the enquiry of,

"It is the Gaffer, Frodo, shall I let him in?"

"Of course, Pip." Frodo replied. Pip appeared in the living room again a moment later, the Gaffer following not far behind him. He had only to look at Frodo before he divined what was wrong and said, 

"I'm terribly sorry, Frodo, but we live in a small community and once Sam started makin' enquires…"

"I understand, Master Gamgee." Frodo said, pausing for the barest of seconds before enquiring, "Is Sam still here?"

"Yes he is. Rose and I convinced him to stay long enough to see his Mallorn bloom, but after that we will have lost him."

"Rose…then Sam and she?"

"Nothin' more than my half witted son confusing friendship with love. He's made his apologies to her and told her exactly what I've just told ye,"

"That is a small weight off of my shoulders at least. How long do you think it shall be before the Mallorn blooms, Master Gamgee?"

"I'd be very surprised to see it still bare at dawn tomorrow, Frodo. But don't look so down trodden, I know for a fact that Sam has not yet had one offer made to him.

"Even without me suggesting it to them as you said I might, they all believe that what he's doing t'aint nothing more than a test, or they can't shake the feeling that you'll manage to get him back before he's been of use to them."

"Surely at least one Hobbit is interested."

"They're all interested, Frodo, my Sam is very good at was he does after all. But Sam has always been yours, Frodo and they've no wish to disturb that."

"He is not one of my possessions, Master Gamgee and I have no wish to hear him talked of as if he is."

"I meant no offence, Frodo, but it is the truth…at least in a fashion. Ye are gentry and while ye paid Sam's wages ye owned him, just as ye own a piece of furniture. I know that idea offends ye, because ye have a good heart just as Master Bilbo before ye, but 'tis the way of our society and so it is the only way that most of us understand."

"Do you think he shall leave if he finds no employment?"

"I don't know, Frodo. Whatever has been said between ye has disturbed him greatly, indeed I haven't seen him this worried since…"

"Since?"

"Since March the 13th. I heard nothin' but worry from him until that young Hobbit came for him."

"It is true, Frodo, he was in such a state when he arrived at Bag End that day that we almost believed that he would do us no good." Pippin supplied. 

"It all started back there…" The sentence trailed and one of Frodo's hands crept behind his neck to touch the wound hidden there.

"Frodo?" Merry enquired.

"I am well, Merry, you need not fear anything to the contrary. I am just thinking on something Sam said that first time,"

"Perhaps while ye are recalling, Frodo, ye might fill me in, so that I can see what it is that I am dealing with."

"Certainly Master Gamgee. If you will sit down, for I fear that it is a rather long tale."

*

Sam closed his eyes and tried to concentrate on the feel of the Mallorn that sat behind him, on the rush of the wind through its leaves. Yet all that his mind would allow him to see was Frodo.

He had been coming up the Row from another failed attempt to find himself a new job, when he had heard Frodo's voice. The well-loved voice that he had not heard since the Ring had begun to take his Master from him. Glancing ahead of him he perceived three mounted figures a little ahead of him on the road. One was lent a little in his saddle so that he might hear the words being spoken to him by Daddy Twofoot.

The look upon Frodo's face in that moment was frozen still upon Sam's mind. His pale skin flush red from the hard rife and his eyes burning with some unknown thought or feeling. 

Sam had had no wish to tarry on the road then, for fear that his former Master might see him and so he had come to the one place where he felt safe, secure. Once he had settled beneath the Great Mallorn he had allowed his mind to dwell upon Frodo, memorising all that he would allow himself of face, voice and body language. He hoped that by memorising each, he could recall them to himself when he was at last completely separated from his friend. 

Yet once recalled the memory of Frodo awoke the burning heat of the unknown feeling deep within Sam's heart. He had no wish to recall that feeling yet and so he had tried to push it away by picturing the new life he was to be living very soon…

And yet all that he could see was Frodo. All that he wished for was his old life with Frodo.

Sam brought down a hand, hard, onto the trunk of the Mallorn and cursed under his breath.

"T'aint no going back, Samwise Gamgee," He said to himself. He knew that it was the truth, for all that had been said between them would make returning to their old comfortable friendship nigh impossible. Yet if Frodo was truly found again, if his friend had at last escaped the darkness surrounding him, wasn't there a hope now? If not for a return then for a new start?

Had Frodo truly found his way out though? And if so how? What new cure had been found to reverse what Sam had truly believed permanent?

" Mayhap he someone within Minas Tirith more skilled at healing than ye," And that idea grew in Sam's mind, building his anger and jealousy with it.  His imagination took the stupidity and melded it into a reality, a being who had taken his place as Frodo's carer and perhaps even his old job at Bag End. That he had only seen three Hobbit sized figures did not disperse this new reality, for this stranger could easily have ridden ahead, or perhaps he was a short individual and one of Frodo's Cousin's had ridden ahead instead. 

"T'aint right." He said, anger bubbling behind the words. " Frodo's mine. He's mine! And I love him." The last was out before Sam realised and he blushed crimson as the words sunk in fully.

I love him…he had thought it before, certainly, but then it had been nothing more than a brother's love, a platonic devotion that had never been anything other than that This time though Sam knew that there was more to the words, a fiery yearning only just ignited in his heart. 

"Why couldn't I have chosen a better time to fall for him?" He asked himself. "It's all too late now, for there are too many lies, too much said that can not be un-said." And Sam knew that that was the grim reality of it all. His love had bloomed too late and as with a late blooming flower it would perish in the ice of winter.

And at last his anger was lost to his grief and he began to weep uncontrollably, his tears falling like rain on the grass around him. 

*

"…And so I was reminded of what Sam said."

"And do ye think he was right?"

"Perhaps…after what happened within Minas Morgul I began to pull away from Sam for fear of hurting him. For fear of killing him…"

"And without the support of your feelings for San you fell to the song of the Ring." Merry concluded.

"Yes, that is it entirely."

"It all seems simple enough to me, Frodo. Ye need to show Sam that ye are restored to ye self and once he trusts that ye need to tell him the truth."

"I doubt that it will be that simple, Master Gamgee."

"No?" He enquired. In the silence that followed the Gaffer seemed to contemplate something and then with a slight nod of his head he pulled a crumpled note from his pocket. "That arrived today. I've yet to tell Samwise about it, but I will." He said. Frodo took the note and after a moment handed it back again.

"Why show me this?"

"I wanted to show ye that your time is running out, Frodo. Ye have to talk to Sam, or ye shall lose him forever."

"I would willingly lose him Master Gamgee, rather than force him stay."

"Ye truly are a suborn Baggins aren't ye? Look talk to him, it will do ye no harm and mayhap it will out doing a great deal of good." And with that the Gaffer bid each a good day and was gone. 

"Frodo?" Merry enquired after a minute. 

"Give me a while to think, Merry."

"Certainly, Frodo. Come on Pp, I'll treat you to an pint down at the Dragon." Merry said as he stood. Pippin followed on his heals, lingering in the doorway long enough to tell Frodo,

"I have faith in you, Frodo. Even if you do not." And then he too left. 

Alone now in the silence Frodo began to weep, his tears and anguish matching exactly that of the Hobbit for most in his mind.

*

As dawn brought light upon Hobbiton it seemed to all that looked out onto the Party Field, that the great Mallorn planted there was wreathed in flames. 

So it had seemed to Sam also. When he had peered out of his window in the morning. Yet when he came closer to the tree, still half dressed in his night attire and a small pail of water in his hands he perceived that it was not flames at all but deep golden flowers. Placing the bucket to the floor he stretched a hands to caress the flowers, hardly daring to breath for fear of blowing the petals away, so fragile did they seem.   

"Beautiful, is it not?" Came an enquiry, in a voice Sam recognised far too well.  Suddenly embarrassed he pulled his hand away from the bloom far too quickly, causing the thin branch to bounce and dislodge a flurry of petals. 

"It is indeed." Sam replied as he turned to face Frodo. His eyes focusing on a point slightly above his former Master's eyes. "Me brother Halfred has said that if I am serious about finding another job, I might come and work with him in Oatbarton."

"So your Gaffer has informed me…are you going?"

"Yes, this evening most likely, lest me Gaffer needs me to stay for a few more days." He replied. There was silence between them for a moment and as the breeze picked up again another cascade of petals fell from the tree. `Small golden snowflakes`, Frodo thought as he watched one dip and climb again, `caught in the wind and fated never to fall but to move ever onwards in the winds. Tiny mimicries of life…`

"It does not have to be this way." Frodo said eventually. 

"It can't be any other way." Sam replied.

"Look at me Sam, please?" Frodo enquired. Sam's eyes dropped instantly and were caught by Frodo's own, "Do you see?" 

"You are yourself again, aren't you?" Sam enquired.

"Yes." 

"And what was your cure then? What finally drowned the call of the Sea from your heart?"

"Love, Sam." Frodo replied.

"Love for who?"

"Do you even have to ask?" Frodo enquired as he took a step towards his friend. Sam tried to step away, but he was snared now by the emotion in Frodo's eyes and its mirror in his heart.

"It'll never work." He managed to say before Frodo moved again and they were locked in a kiss.

And here in the silent moment of perfection there was no need for words, for they would be inadequate now, lost to the complete reality of this instant. And as they separated Frodo asked simply,

"Stay."

"Yes." Sam replied before he pulled Frodo to him again, resisting for a moment more the pull of gravity and drifting, like the petals around them, on the winds.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

T: Ha! Not only did I slip the title in but also it was done with such finesse! A few notes on this chapter before I do my last little bit… The idea of the Gaffer not using the `Mr.` honorific before Frodo's name was spurred by the little recollection in the last chapter and because I wanted to show how close the pair were.  Some might be confused with the fact that the Gaffer stated that there had been no offers and then a little later shows Frodo the note from Halfred. I stress here that the Gaffer said that Sam had not had an offer made to him which is true, because at that point he had not yet seen Halfred's note.  The layout of Bag End is based here upon the plan in `The art of the fellowship of the Ring` if you do not have this book and wish to see the map please ask me at Soulreciever@yahoo.co.uk and I'll be more than happy to send an image your way.

Also should anyone out there wish to write a sequel they are more than welcome, but please just ask me first, the same with pictures of the scenes and other such things. 

For those out there who can draw and are interested in helping me with my next fiction drop me a line and I'll let you know what I'm after. Anyway thanks again and as always R+R!


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